


A Converging of Souls

by RubyRaspberry



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: EJ and Masky have been added and are rueing the day they were born, F/M, Forgive me for this fanfiction, I just had too much fun giving Jeff a hard time, Lots of creeping going on in this fic, Lots of swearing but mostly from Jeff, Not soulmates but a similar concept, Okay I did it guys, Seriously what a potty mouth on that guy amirite, Slender's side is a lot more serious, Some blood and graphic violence, Technically this is Marble Hornets too, This is the crowning jewel of my trashy reader inserts, You get a different Creepypasta BFF in each scenario, boyfriend scenarios, have fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-03-20 02:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyRaspberry/pseuds/RubyRaspberry
Summary: An unexpected meeting lands you in a heap of trouble, and one thing leads to another. Before long you find yourself caught up in something unthinkable: you’re bonded to an extremely dangerous killer who can’t leave you alone even if he tried.Another set of Creepypasta boyfriend scenarios, now featuring choices between Slenderman, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, and Masky. Whoever you choose, it's bound to be a wild ride.





	1. A Branching of Fate (Slenderman)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m pretty sure all I’ve been doing with my life lately is writing reader insert trash… AND HERE’S SOME MORE. My thanks actually go out to veilsan13, the wonderful author of a set of excellent Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios, who encouraged me to bite the bullet and post my own work! I started this fic back in December, but never felt brave enough to post it as it’s my first time writing for the CP fandom. 
> 
> This is TECHNICALLY also a set of boyfriend scenarios, but…you know. These guys are killers. It’s not going to be the usual progression you see on most of those fics across other fandoms (e.g. “You Meet”, “He Realizes He Likes You One Day Later”, “He Asks You Out”, “You Proceed to Make Babies” – I’m just teasing, guys). Also, for the time being I don’t love how my scenarios have turned out for EJ and Masky. So please consider those on hold until I can get them written the way I’d like so you lovely folks can properly enjoy them.
> 
> In the meantime, I’ll post my scenarios for Slender and Jeff. IT’S TRASH THOUGH. I WASN’T KIDDING. Enjoy? We’ll see…

All things considered, it was a god-awful night to be out.

Impenetrable clouds of fog rolled low across the winding back road, hampering your visibility as your car’s high beams failed to cut through the gloom. You could barely make out the silhouettes of dense pine trees clustered alongside the path, and out of necessity your pace slowed to a painful crawl.

Seriously, the  _last thing_  you needed was to hit a fucking deer at 1 a.m. in the middle of nowhere without phone service. Some “shortcut” this was turning out to be. You scowled as you tightened your grip on the steering wheel, wishing you had some idea of how much distance you had left to cover. It already felt interminable and wasn’t made any easier by the fact that it looked as though you were taking a detour through Silent Hill.

The worst part was that your stupid GPS had decided to crap out not two minutes after you’d taken the ill-advised turn, leaving you to navigate the meandering, narrow road with no actual idea of where you were going and no way to turn around. Thanks, Google Maps. You reminded yourself to stay calm and keep your breathing steady. Panicking wasn’t going to help. Your signal would probably return as soon as the heavy foliage was no longer cutting you off from the outside world, and then it would redirect you and you’d be home free. Hopefully. Possibly. Maybe?

You swore under your breath before fiddling with the knob of your radio, turning up the volume on an upbeat song in hopes that it would help ease your burgeoning anxiety. You normally didn’t mind driving at night, but when conditions were this bad and you didn’t have any idea where you were going, you felt a lot less enthused to be alone behind the wheel.

Then, as you rounded the next bend, an unexpected figure emerged from the fog. He stood not five feet from your car and was waving wildly to catch your attention.

You gasped and slammed on the brakes. Your tires skidded across the pavement and your heart leaped into your throat. The vapors were so murky that you’d never seen him coming until the very last second. If you hadn’t been driving so cautiously…!

The stranger wasted no time in approaching the car, though you couldn’t help but notice that he appeared to be limping a little as he did so. You trembled in your seat with spiked adrenaline from the close call, and it took you a couple of attempts to lower your passenger side window just enough to hear his voice.

“Hey!” At least he didn’t sound too upset that you’d come within mere feet of punting him off the road with your Civic. Small wins, you supposed. “Sorry if I scared you! What a night, eh?”

“Y-you’re telling me!” You laughed shakily as deep relief washed over you. “Listen, sir, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t even see you there until the last second. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m good.” Due to the heavy mist clinging to the air and coalescing around his head in opaque wisps, you couldn’t make out the man’s face very well. He appeared to be stocky and broad-shouldered, perhaps in his late thirties. He was dark-haired with eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and if you squinted you could make out a red flannel shirt and dark jeans. Beyond that, everything was a blur. Well, at least he seemed friendly enough. But you still had to ask.

“What are you doing out here on foot, on the side of the road, at 1 a.m.?” It wasn’t until you’d voiced the question, primarily out of genuine concern, that it raised the first red flag. Wait a minute. It didn't occur to you while the initial shock dissipated, but now you couldn’t help but feel suspicious. Why the hell _was_ he out here in the middle of the night? Where was his car? You narrowed your eyes, suddenly very grateful that all of your doors were locked and that you hadn’t done more than lower the window a crack.

“Long story,” the man wheezed, gesturing down toward his leg. “I trekked out here earlier today to go hiking. Lots of great crags and hills to climb in these parts, y’know? But I ended up slipping and twisted my leg somethin’ bad, and couldn’t make it back. I’m havin’ a lot of trouble walking and ended up getting lost. To top it all off, I can’t get any service out here, so I couldn’t call for help! Guess I wasn’t real prepared, huh?”

He attempted a weak chuckle at his own expense, and you hesitated. Should you buy his story? What should you do? In his defense, you had zero service out here either, so at least that much of his account had to be true.

But that also meant that if you let him into your car and he tried something deranged, you couldn’t call for help.

You shivered a little, trying to steer your thoughts back into somewhat less paranoid territory. You had to think this through. What if he was telling the truth? Was he just an unfortunate hiker who’d managed to injure himself and was waiting on someone to pick him up? If you were really the first person to find him, you didn’t want to leave him stranded here. You needed to buy more time.

“Have you been waiting here by the side of the road for a car to pass by?” you asked carefully, and he nodded.

“Yep. Didn’t see how I had much other choice. It’s pitch black in them woods, and I got an uneasy feeling after nightfall.” He shuddered. Despite your trepidation, you were hit with the distinct impression that something had genuinely unsettled him out there. Were there wild animals in these parts, or perhaps it was a fear of being lost in the woods, completely alone? No, there was far more to it than that. You weren’t sure how you could tell, but your own unease began to grow and churned with discomfort in your gut.

“I can’t blame you.” You sympathized with him and yet still faltered. If you could guarantee that he was who he said he was, then you had no problem with giving him a ride. But then again, you also had an avid imagination and had read far too many horror stories online. Many were accounts almost eerily similar, of meeting someone late at night who played up some pity story in hopes of misleading an unsuspecting victim into giving them a ride.

“Well?” The man’s voice was still cheerful, but now touched with the slightest edge of impatience, and you realized that you’d become lost in your own troubled thoughts. “Mind giving me a lift? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Right.” You exhaled raggedly. Your nerves were already frayed, even though the stranger hadn’t given you any logical reason to fear him.

_He hasn’t given you any reason to trust him, either._

You could just drive away, you supposed. There was nothing he could do about it, especially not while he was injured. But what if he really did need someone’s help? You would feel like a massive pile of shit if you left him here and he needed to get to a hospital, and not knowing would torture you. 

“Humor me,” you heard yourself saying, “Say you’re driving alone in the middle of the night on a dangerous back road. Out of nowhere a complete stranger jumps in front of you and asks you for a ride. Would you feel a little uncomfortable?” The question was wry, but the ill-timed cracking of your voice spoiled the effect. You’d been irrationally wondering if he could scent fear, but now he sure as hell could hear it.

“Look, I’m not going to hurt you, lady.” Now the impatience was definitely more noticeable, sharper. He was done with the small talk. He pressed one of his large, calloused palms against your passenger side window, ducking his head lower so he could peer more closely into the car at you. You shrank back into your seat. “I get it, you’re a woman and you’re alone at night. You think everyone’s out to get you,  _yadda yadda_. But not every guy out there’s lookin’ to take advantage of somebody. You give me a lift out of here and get me to civilization, and I’ll be outta your hair. You’re not gonna leave a guy high and dry here with an injured leg, are you?”

Some of his fingers now crimped above your window, snaking themselves into the scant space, and a disconcerting smirk spread across his face as he awaited your answer. Even under the cover of fog, his dark expression was now more than a little apparent. Okay. Nope. _No way_  were you letting this creepy asshole into your car. You should just drive away, _right now._

“C’mon, are you gonna keep me out here all night? Not very good manners.” He began to grope his way even further through the window, much to your horror, as if he could somehow reach the unlock button and let himself inside.

Your transmission was still in drive. All you had to do was release the gas pedal. Okay, so you couldn’t exactly floor it under the current conditions, but anything was better than nothing! So why the hell was your body still frozen in place?!

But then your head began to pound, interrupting your harried train of thought. It was faint at first, almost bemusing, until it began to hammer a merciless rhythm against your skull. Before long you couldn’t see. Your fingers clutched at the steering wheel in a death grip, your only anchor in the unexpected sea of confusion and pain as your vision swam before your eyes and your head exploded with agony. A wave of dizziness and vertigo nearly had you retching onto the dashboard. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream and you were faintly aware of the man’s horrified shouting from outside of your car as he suffered the same fate.

He was shrieking words at you, but none of them registered. He writhed and flailed about, throwing himself against the Civic, frantically tugging at the locked latch, desperately trying to get inside as he screamed himself hoarse. The door handle jiggled and when it failed to give way, the hitchhiker wailed in frustration and fear. Then all other sound was drowned out by a deep hum of static, a powerful vibration that seemed to resonate deep within you, gradually whittling away all of your other senses as it filled your ears.

_You shouldn’t be here._

You were dying, weren’t you? You were seriously going to croak out here in the middle of nowhere while your brain imploded and some creepy screaming bastard tried to break into your car. Not quite the peaceful end you’d envisioned for yourself.

_Do you wish to learn the truth?_

What the hell was that voice? It was and it wasn’t in your head all at once. But how was that possible? Static continued to swim across your vision, but somehow shifting your focus to the voice seemed to give you a fresh surge of stability and helped ebb away some of the pain. You sucked in a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself.

Then you glanced through the windshield and saw him, and everything else plummeted away.

Standing among a nearby cluster of trees was an impossibly tall figure, eldritch and terrifying, slim in stature with long, lean limbs and ghostly pale skin. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, complete with an impeccably knotted red tie and not a wrinkle to be seen in the fine fabric. The fog seemed to dispel somewhat around him, and after several long, numb moments, you realized two very important things.

One, he didn’t have a face. There was nothing there. No hair, completely devoid of all features.

Two, he was staring right at you.

You didn’t know how you could tell, to be honest, considering that this creature—for he couldn’t possibly be a man—didn’t have eyes. Yet all the same you were convinced of it. The hitchhiker’s frenzied cries had died away, leaving behind an ominous silence only disrupted by the persistent drone of static in your ears. Somehow it seemed less urgent now, and the pain had faded away from your head. Your limbs felt unusually weak in the aftermath and your gaze was dull when you stared back at the unnerving form waiting among the trees.

Was he planning to kill you? Then what was stopping him from reaching out and silencing you? Your brain felt sluggish and before long it became a struggle to keep your eyelids open. Damn it. You were going to get massacred out in the middle of these godforsaken woods by some sinister monster wearing the sharpest suit you’d ever seen. Apparently he even possessed some sort of mind control ability and took great pleasure in screwing with hapless travelers in the middle of the night. Fantastic.

“Wait!” you cried in desperation, and at once everything came to a halt. It was as if time itself had stopped, and even the relentless static had dispersed at last. The world itself seemed to be holding its breath in a pregnant pause, and for a moment you, yourself, had no idea what the hell you were about to say. What were you even doing?

Then the next words tumbled out of your mouth, the ones that would soon come to change everything.

“Yes,” you whispered in a voice that you hardly recognized as your own, “ _I wish to learn the truth_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is your opinion on having them both in the same chapter like this vs. posted separately for each character for future chapters? Does it matter either way to anyone? If so, please let me know and thanks for reading! :)


	2. A Branching of Fate (Jeff the Killer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that this is easier to read! After receiving some feedback, from now on I will split it up so that each chapter is separate.

You’d just wanted to have a normal fucking Friday night. Was that really so much to ask? It had been a  _very_ long day at work. You were exhausted after getting up at 5 a.m. for your horrible commute, and you thought it would be nice to stop by Bamboo Café to pick up some sushi for dinner on your way home.

Volcano roll, baby. Oh yeah.

But apparently that would have to wait. Sprawled upon the concrete at the foot of your apartment building, limbs twitching and jerking involuntarily, was a man. Not just any man, but quite possibly the most terrifying person you’d ever laid eyes on. No exaggeration.

He was dressed normally enough, sure. He wore a white hoodie and simple dark jeans, complete with black converses and fingerless gloves. His hair was near-shoulder length, raven black, and somewhat matted and unruly. He could really use a comb. You also noticed that his skin was alarmingly pale.  

What was really eerie about him, though, perhaps even more so than the fact that his hoodie was covered in multiple bloodstains, was the Glasgow smile carved across his face. Jagged scars began at the corners of his mouth and stretched almost to his ears, and the puckered flesh was still slightly pink.

Then you met his eyes.

They were wide-open, unblinking, and gaping up at the night sky without registering anything. His irises were a startling shade of pale blue, rimmed in dark shadows that seemed to be more than just heavy circles beneath his eyes. His stare seemed glazed over, and if it weren’t for the harsh rise and fall of his chest, you’d honestly wonder if he was dead.

Blood was starting to pool beneath his head, and you couldn’t help but pivot your head up the side of the apartment building when a horrific thought struck you. Had he  _jumped_? That would explain everything, and you rushed to grab your phone and call him an ambulance. You dialed 9 and 1, but then paused.

There was a blood-covered knife clutched in his right hand.

What the hell was going on? Your mouth fell open of its own accord and your heart thundered in your chest as you tried to piece together the situation. You pressed your phone against your chest, staring down at the man with growing horror. Had he hurt someone? Had someone tried to hurt him? Had he jumped, or had he fallen? Either way you should be calling the police.

“Hey.” Your whisper sounded harsh in the night air, and the complete silence around the building was eerie. Had no one heard him hit the ground and come to check on him? How long had he been lying here? “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response. You swallowed, and though you couldn’t begin to explain it, the most peculiar notion suddenly struck you.  _You couldn’t call the police._ You knew that made absolutely no sense from a logical standpoint. Hell, not one minute earlier you’d been prepared to do just that, yet now the idea gave you a strange sense of foreboding. You couldn’t have possibly told anyone why or explained it.

But you couldn’t just leave him here, either. You hesitated for only a fraction of a second before balancing your sushi bag in the crook of your arm and kneeling down. Your hands fluttered over him, wondering how you were going to go about this, until you settled for reaching beneath his armpits and hauling him up into a sitting position. It took some exertion given your limited strength, and you huffed a little before bracing yourself and dragging you both back up onto your feet.

This was made considerably more difficult by the fact that he appeared to be unconscious despite his wide-open eyes, and he slumped against you as you had to _drag_ him up a flight of stairs to the open plan on the second floor. You had never felt more grateful that you didn’t live higher than you did in that moment, and you prayed that none of your neighbors noticed or happened to poke their heads outside into the hallway to watch.

After struggling with it for a good two minutes, you unlocked your door and deadbolt while continuing to support the limp, injured man, and the two of you almost fell inside when you accidentally lurched forward. But somehow you managed to catch him, and it was with immense relief that you finally laid him down upon your couch.

You wiped your brow and stared down at him, adrenaline still coursing through your system, though you knew the reality of the situation would soon come crashing down. You’d just dragged a complete stranger into your apartment, one who was covered in blood and still holding a knife, you might add. Yeah, even while unconscious, he hadn’t slackened his grip on that thing for a second.

Tentatively, you reached for his wrist. His skin was freezing. With some effort, you pried the knife loose by releasing his grip around its handle, one finger at a time. You took special care to place it far away from him so he couldn’t suddenly wake up and decide that you would look better wearing a smile like his, and then turned his head so that you could take a better look at his wound.

Ouch. He’d sustained a nasty gash to both his scalp and temple, though upon closer inspection both lacerations appeared to be shallow and superficial in nature. The amount of blood must have been because it was a scalp wound. You seized a nearby cotton blanket and wrapped it around him to help warm him up, then sprinted for your medicine cabinet to riffle for your first aid kit.

Within twenty minutes you’d successfully cleaned up, sanitized, and bandaged his wounds. You threw the now-bloodstained towel into the wash to prevent it from becoming permanent. You weren’t capable of administering stitches, but at the very least he had some Bacitracin to act as a disinfectant and dressings for the cuts.

But now what? What might be the most disconcerting thing about him, you’d now decided, was the fact that you still hadn’t seen him blink. Not even once. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged you or focused upon anything. Was he blind? No, that didn’t make any sense. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard you or responded in  _some_ way when you forcefully dragged him up an entire flight of stairs (rather ungracefully too, you might add). But then how was that possible?

They were a mesmerizing shade of blue, you had to admit, even though it was incredibly creepy that he seemed to have both a permanent stare and grin. Who on earth was this guy? What had he been doing collapsed at the foot of your apartment building?

He still hadn’t woken up, and you realized that this had some potential to be very awkward, but nonetheless you decided to be the best possible host. Even if he hadn’t asked for it. You set out a fresh glass of water and some Ibuprofen on the small table beside the couch, within easy reach if he happened to wake up, and you curled up with your laptop upon your armchair across the room. Y’know, just to keep an eye on him. He was your “patient”, after all  ~~and you didn’t want to let your guard down just in case.~~

The mysterious man didn’t wake up for over an hour. You scarfed down your sushi and began to relax a little, losing yourself in perusing entertaining forums online, to the point that you weren’t expecting it when he shot up in his seat with a yell.

“Whoa!” you shrieked, almost sending your laptop crashing to the ground and only snatching it back up at the last second. “U-um, hey, are you—”

“WHAT THE HELL?” he bellowed, his expression flashing as his head whipped back and forth and he took in your apartment, the blanket pooling in his lap. “Where am I?!”

“Relax!” you shouted back, raising your voice as well despite knowing that it was probably a lousy idea. “You’re injured, so I brought you into my apartment to treat you! That’s all! How are you feeling? Need any painkillers?”

He ignored your concerned questions, and seemed to notice that his knife was missing. If possible, he grew even paler. His eyes darted over to meet yours, and his furious glower was so intense that you recoiled a little into your seat. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. Shit. You should have gone with your initial instinct and called the police. What had you been  _thinking_ , bringing him here like this?!

What you failed to notice was there was something else in his expression when his eyes first raked across your form, a fleeting jolt of massive surprise that he hastily concealed. Sheer loathing dripped from his next words, eclipsing any chance that you might have spied anything was amiss.

“Where. The fuck. Is my knife?” The question was much quieter, but he spoke so dangerously that it sent a chill down your spine. You numbly pointed over to the bureau where you’d moved it, despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to not provide a weapon to someone who looked as though he’d like nothing more than to stab you in the face.

He sprang to his feet, only to wobble forward. He gripped at his head with an unsteady moan of pain, and you realized that he was still suffering from some vertigo from his injury. You were torn between wanting to help him and wanting to sprint for your own knife rack in the kitchen.

“Careful! You’re still healing.” You ended up playing it calm, for all the good it did. You were still wary about keeping your distance, not wanting to aggravate or provoke him. “Look, your knife’s not going anywhere. You should probably sit back down.”

“What the hell? Who…who _are_  you?” he asked in croaky disbelief, glaring at you with a combination of powerful distrust and now something else—confusion. “You…you didn’t…?” His unsettling eyes flickered toward your phone with an unmistakable hint of panic, and you knew at once what he meant. You shook your head.

“No. I don’t know why, and maybe I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but no. I didn’t call the police when I found you.”

Now everything except sheer astonishment had faded away from his expression, even the initial hatred. He was nothing short of bewildered as he gaped at you, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. Whatever he’d expected you to say, that hadn’t been it.

“Why not?” he finally growled after a couple of long, extremely tense moments.

“I’m not sure why, myself.” You glanced pointedly over at his knife on the bureau. “Are you trying to say that I should be calling the police?”

“Fuck no!” he snarled, slamming his fists down onto your coffee table in front of the couch and making the glass of water rattle. “You touch that phone, bitch, and I’ll send you off to sleep. _Permanently_.”

You were rendered speechless for a moment. Then, much to your own surprise as his, unexpected indignation welled up within you and you flew up from your seat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped against all better judgment, and your angry retort actually took him aback. “I helped you, and I just told you that I  _didn’t_ call the cops on you, and you threaten to murder me? Are you insane?”

“Don’t push your luck!” he hissed at you, his eyes darting back and forth, as if assessing whether he’d be able to beat you over to his weapon in his present condition.

“Listen.” Your heart was drumming in your chest, but you continued to give an outward appearance of composure as it was now clear that you were dealing with some sort of psychopath, possibly even a killer. You needed to keep your cool if you wanted to make it out of this unscathed, if that were still even possible. “Why can’t you just take your knife and leave, if you’re going to be such a dick? No one’s making you stay. I was just trying to help you.”

“Screw this,” he mumbled, stumbling over to the bureau with some effort, and instantly seemed more at ease once he was grasping his knife again. His head swiveled to face you once more, and this time you couldn’t make any sense of what you were seeing.

Something was perturbing him, though you had no idea what. Maybe he was just stunned out of his wits that you’d seen his scarred mug and hadn’t thrown him to the mercy of cops? He began edging his way toward the door while keeping his back to the wall, his piercing eyes not budging from you for even a moment, and you held his gaze even as your mouth went dry with anxiety.

“You’re welcome, Sir Stabs-a-lot,” you called out as he fumbled with the doorknob, unable to help yourself. “Don’t mention it.”

His face darkened into another scowl before he swung the door open, finally tearing his unnatural stare away from you and allowing it to slam shut behind him. A ringing silence was left in his wake, and you were struck by the sudden horrible notion that maybe, just maybe, you should consider changing apartments.

What the hell had you just done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I post a story, I have a hell of a time figuring out how on earth to get the End Notes from the first chapter to not appear on all of the chapters that follow. I swear I'm college-educated??


	3. A Branching of Fate (Eyeless Jack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so it turns out I can’t fix EJ’s and Masky’s chapters no matter what I do because writing's been a severe challenge for me lately, so I give up, haha. Just take them as they are! At least it’s better than nothing at all, since I promised I would try to get these chapters posted eventually. 
> 
> Dedicated to SnickeringDoodle and Andi, whose encouragement really helped me want to move forward with these additional parts. That being said, all of you have been wonderful – I can’t thank you enough for all the comments and support!
> 
> Note: This part contains some graphic violence/blood.

Eyeless Jack slinked through the street in silence, all the while keeping to the shadows. His target moseyed along up ahead, oblivious to the fact that he was being followed. The man was only in his late twenties, but due to a long-lived heroin addiction and incessant use of cocaine, he looked aged beyond his years.

Glassy, bloodshot eyes sat over a nose with an eroded septum from countless instances of snorting blow, and his personal hygiene had deteriorated to the point of nonexistence. It was kind of pathetic, really. It didn’t give Jack any pleasure to be tailing and dispatching such a mark, but it couldn’t be helped. The tweaker had made the grave mistake of trying to set up a lab in the wrong territory, and orders were orders.

He just highly doubted that Douglas Jones’ innards were anything worth consuming. At least the guy wasn’t an alcoholic, though. Couldn’t afford beer when he blew everything he had on hard drugs. The targets who destroyed their liver and kidneys were the ones Jack dreaded the most.

Doug continued to stumble forward, his movements ungainly as he threatened to pitch over at any moment. It wouldn’t even pose the remotest challenge to take him out. All Jack had to do was wait for him to pass through the upcoming alleyway, seize him, and cut his throat.

...Among maybe a few other things. It had been a while since he’d last had a chance to go on a solo mission, and he was itching to make proper use of his scalpel. Carving flesh was what he was best at. Well, the others might beg to differ, as the whole team seemed to see him as some kind of doctor, but patching up wounds never provided the same thrill as slicing them.

Doug continued to teeter along until at last he reached his destination, but just as he was about to turn into the alleyway, something else appeared to draw his attention.

His pursuer froze in the shadows. Shit. What now? He didn’t have all night, and it was always ideal to trap his victims in an isolated area. He could sever the man’s vocal cords first to prevent any screaming, but they still needed to remain out of sight to avoid detection. It had been…messy the last time someone tried to intervene, and the boss hadn’t been pleased that he’d been forced to kill others and draw attention to himself. Only his carefully selected marks were to get involved.

Doug sneered when his gaze fell upon a young woman who walked along the other side of the street. She had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her over-sized hoodie and wasn’t looking at him, though after a moment she did a double-take when she realized she was being watched. Her stricken expression seemed to rouse Doug, and he began blundering after her with jerky limbs and growing excitement.

Her posture stiffened before she picked up the pace, hastening to put distance between them before the situation could escalate any further. Something metallic glinted in her hand when it caught the light of a nearby streetlamp, likely one of those self-defense key chains. Doug failed to notice the lack of warm reception as he was too intent on giving chase.

“Oi, what’s the hurryyyyy?” he slurred with a simpering grin. “Where you off to, beautiful?”

“Look, I'm not interested, okay? Stay away from me, and don’t make me say it again, creep!” Her voice sounded tinny despite her attempt at bravado. Obvious fear clamped around her like a vise and her knuckles had turned white with the sheer force used to grip the small weapon in her hand. Doug’s brow furrowed with anger in response and he spat on the pavement.

“Fuck you, bitch! Y’think you’re too good for me?” he growled and his eyes darted about wildly, his dilated pupils giving him a crazed look. Talk about a full 180. “I’m about to fuck you up!” He lunged forward and she yelped, scrambling to get away.

Screw it. Jack didn’t have time for this. He’d let the girl escape and cut the addict down, which should resolve the situation without getting anyone else involved.

Then, as he took a step closer, a powerful wave of  _something_ surged through him, taking him off-guard. It was enough to make him stagger, an inexplicable pull that he’d never once felt before. It felt familiar and protective and comfortable and longing all at once, none of which he was accustomed to, especially not the warmth that now coursed through his chest and made his limbs tingle. It only intensified the closer he got to—oh, _fuck._

It was the bond, exactly as the boss had described. He scarcely had time to absorb this shocking realization before an uncharacteristic rage began to flood through him, more of a cold fury that he couldn’t initially explain. Then, as it heightened when he watched the tweaker chase the young woman, he understood. He sensed that not only was it her, but there was also the fact that his target pursued her with more than a little intent to do her harm. Only one thought now blazed through his mind, as a fierce protective instinct filled him for the very first time and his fists involuntarily clenched at his sides.

_He was going to tear Doug’s fucking throat out._

This was no longer a mission. This was now a hunt, and Douglas Jones was the prey. A wicked smirk formed behind the man’s bright blue mask, revealing rows of sharp teeth that would have terrified even the most courageous of men. His fingers twitched with anticipation, already eager to wrap themselves around the addict’s throat and  _choke_  the life out of him. It was a hell of a lot cruder than his usual methods, albeit less messy, but the compulsion driving him was so primal and ferocious that he found he didn’t care. In fact, he was even looking forward to it.

It was nothing less than what Doug deserved for menacing her. None of the thoughts that ran through his mind right then were calm or logical, completely at odds with the killer’s normal countenance. His impeccable self-control was slipping, and strangely enough, he found that he didn’t give a damn. The thrill of the chase and knowing that the scumbag was going to take a dirt nap was all-consuming.

Scalpel in hand, he darted forward with all the lithe, practiced grace afforded to him by years of experience, and seemed to melt into view out of the gloom when he threw himself into Douglas’ path. The coke user was badly startled and nearly fell face-first to the ground, yelping out in surprise.  

“Wh-who…who are you?” he whimpered, his earlier rage giving way to the same innate fear that the killer invoked in all of his victims.

“The monster who’s about to put an end to your pitiful existence,” Eyeless Jack hissed in response. His voice was raspier than usual, almost delirious with anticipation. Doug nearly wet himself in terror. Nearby the young woman had frozen in place, watching the scene unfold before her with growing astonishment. She clearly was wondering whether to intervene on behalf of her attacker—perhaps the morally conscious decision despite the fact that he’d been threatening her—or step back and allow the problem to “sort itself out.”

Or maybe she should flee before he decided to target her next.

Jack wasted no more time, taking the others by surprise. He moved fluidly, his long, powerful fingers betraying his earlier primal instinct when they enclosed Douglas’ throat and squeezed.

The man’s eyes bulged and his own hands flew up in protest. Doug desperately tried to loosen Jack’s unyielding hold by scrabbling against his steely grip, but to no avail. He gasped for air, his body flailing and twisting in a frantic dance, and his voice soon constricted into nothing more than a guttural, choking scream.

The skin grew mottled beneath Jack’s fingers. As Doug’s fight for life began to fade before his eyes, the tweaker’s skin began to turn an unpleasant shade of purple, and a sense of satisfaction unlike any other filled the masked proxy.

“You never should have gone after her,” he whispered, baring his intimidating smile to its full extent behind the mask as his victim had no choice but to stare into the dark, bottomless pits of the eyes of his killer. Faint traces of realization edged their way into the dying man’s expression, even as his consciousness continued to diminish and his systems failed. All the same, Douglas Jones was still aware and capable of feeling pain. Jack took advantage of that moment to jab his scalpel into the soft flesh of the addict’s stomach and gave it a cruel twist.

Hot blood immediately gushed onto his hand, and Doug’s eyes rolled back into his head at the overwhelming anguish, unable to do anything else. With practiced precision and a series of deft tugs using his prized tool, Jack freed the man’s right kidney and plucked it from his side, never relaxing his grip around the man’s throat for even an instant. He raised the small organ in his blood-covered hand to dangle it before the tweaker’s dimming eyes, pride and immense gratification flooding through him to the point that it was overwhelming. Then he took a bite, relishing his victim’s final look of revulsion as the familiar metallic taste saturated his mouth.

A sharp cry drew him from his reverie, and Jack’s head snapped toward the woman who remained close by. Her horrified gaze was fixated upon the scene, her hands trembling as they covered her mouth. She met him with wide eyes, and Jack finally let Doug’s limp body tumble to the asphalt. Gore quickly pooled around the still-warm corpse, a permanent expression of agony etched upon the dead man’s face. The mission was done.

But Jack wasn’t.

He took a single step toward the young woman, only for her to whirl on her heel and begin sprinting away.

“Stay away from me!” she screamed, moving faster than he expected. He faltered, not having intended to frighten her, but then he supposed that what she’d just witnessed—his most raw, brutal, and merciless side—would have perturbed any ordinary human, to say the least.

Except she was no ordinary human.

He darted after her while pocketing his scalpel and hurriedly wiping his hand on his jacket, although he only succeeded in further smearing the blood along his skin. Damn it. This already wasn’t going well.

“Wait!” He called after her, feeling like an idiot when the gravelly sound of his voice seemed to only spur her to flee faster. “I said _wait_!”

He was left with no choice but to overtake her with his natural gift for an inhuman level of speed, cutting a sharp left in front of her. Tears sprang into her eyes when she skidded to an ungainly stop, already sensing that it was pointless to try to escape from him.

“What the hell do you want?!” she shouted, and Jack was hit with a fresh wave of her scent. He couldn’t help but inhale deeply, his breath ragged when he exhaled. Shit, this was convoluted.

“Relax,” he commanded. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why should I believe that? I just watched you murder someone and eat his kidney!” She shuddered at the recollection, and Jack squared his jaw as he tried to explain.

“He was going to lay a finger on you,” he growled, another surge of anger filling him at the mere notion. “I stepped in to make sure that will never happen.” She didn’t have to know that Douglas had been dealt a death sentence, regardless.

“So, what? You just did that out of the kindness of your heart, then?” She looked torn between scoffing at him and laughing indignantly through her tears. “What am I supposed to think after witnessing something like that?”

“I would  _never_  hurt you,” Jack reiterated, staring her down so intensely that she shrank back a little. Great, he wasn’t exactly winning points in the convincing department. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. Just…get home safely. I’ll make sure no one else bothers you.”

The attempted words of reassurance felt foreign on his tongue, not to mention more than a little awkward, yet each couldn’t be more true. He would literally tear someone’s face off if it meant protecting her. The bond was practically indomitable, even with an iron will like his, and he’d had no way of foreseeing that this would happen. Even despite his boss’ warning, he’d been ill-prepared.

Eyeless Jack wasn’t exactly accustomed to offering “comfort” to those he encountered in the darkness.

She shot him one last look of deep-seated terror before bolting away, and this time he waited a few minutes before following from the penumbra of night in an effort to mitigate her unease. How the hell was he supposed to interact with her? Now that the euphoria of the kill had ebbed away and her perfume was no longer prominent on the wind, he was left with a pounding migraine in its wake.

This situation was screwed on every possible level. He groaned in acute frustration, wondering what the next step was. Avoid her entirely and pretend this had never happened? Return to the mansion and report his mission as a success, and then lock himself up in his room for a few days to recuperate while shutting out the rest of the world?

No, that would never work. The others would know right away that something had changed, something critical, and those meddlesome idiots would never rest until they had an answer.

He needed to consult Slenderman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry to anyone subscribed to this story if you receive multiple emails - due to EJ's and Masky's chapters being posted late, some reordering is needed.)


	4. A Branching of Fate (Masky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer author note than usual, I want to get a few things out of the way in advance. I’m writing for Masky as Tim Wright from Marble Hornets. Yes, I realize that _technically_ , Marble Hornets is a whole separate fandom from the usual Creepypastas, Masky and Hoodie aren’t “really” proxies, plus there’s a distinction between Slenderman and the Operator, etc. I’m fully aware of all this and I know it upsets certain people. However, in order to make things simpler for this story, I’ve chosen to write it as Slenderman and the Operator being essentially the same entity, and the CPs are his proxies. Including Masky. Tim is mindful of his other consciousness and has reached a point where he retains awareness and general control even as Masky. 
> 
> If this is a deal breaker, then you have my genuine apologies – but you’ve been warned! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy. Note that Masky’s scenarios are very different from the others, which is why I was reluctant to post his parts at first. But I personally like tackling something a bit different for each CP, so we’ll see how it ends up playing out in the long run. Love you guys!

Your first meeting was about as cliché as you might expect.

One moment you were reaching out for a cluster of ripe bananas on the shelf, and the next someone else’s hand closed over yours after you both stretched for them at the same time.

You jerked away at the unexpected physical contact and raised your head to meet the dark blue eyes of the man standing beside you. His gaze was hooded and powerful beneath a pair of thick brows, although you couldn’t decide whether he looked more sheepish or apologetic. His deep mahogany hair was cropped short and he boasted an impressive pair of sideburns on either side of his face.

He donned a worn leather bomber jacket and a simple pair of jeans, looking every bit the part of a bachelor who’d been sent out to pick up a few quick groceries at the behest of his roommates. He hastily retracted his arm to his side, and you noticed that he clutched an empty hand basket on the other.

“Sorry about that.” He motioned for you to take them, clearly embarrassed. “Go ahead, that one’s yours.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You shot him a small smile to assure him you didn’t mind. You grabbed the bananas in question and plopped them into your own basket before passing him another bunch of healthy-looking fruit. “How about these instead?”

“Uh, sure.” He blinked at you but accepted it somewhat awkwardly. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You smiled at each other a little, but for some reason, a peculiar strain of discomfort hung in the air. Neither of your curious gazes budged for several seconds while you studied each other in a tense silence. At length you cleared your throat and gave him a polite nod before walking away, perhaps more briskly than was necessary. What was that all about?

You did your best to put it out of your mind, however, and returned to the crumpled grocery list you’d shoved into your bag before leaving the apartment. The next fifteen minutes saw you cramming your basket with several guilty pleasures and some frozen entrees for the upcoming week’s dinners. You weren’t the world’s greatest cook, much to your chagrin, but what could you do?

You were peering at your list in the middle of the frozen aisle to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything else, and failed to notice that you were about to walk into someone until you ran straight into their chest.

Oof. The faint scent of cigarette smoke mingled with old leather flooded your senses. You couldn’t help but take a brief whiff, catching an additional hint of musky pine, before you remembered that you had just collided with another human being. You leaped back while flushing bright pink.

“I’m so sorry—!” you exclaimed in humiliation, only to recognize him a moment later. It was the same guy you’d bumped into near the front of the store in the produce section. He looked just as surprised, albeit less flustered, and now his own basket overflowed with groceries as well. “Wow, I guess we’re even now, huh?”

You cracked the weak joke in an attempt to diffuse that same odd friction in the air, which was swiftly returning now that you were within a few feet of each other. Talk about strange.

“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was a little raspy, perhaps because he was a smoker, but the smile that played across his lips was genuine. “We do seem to keep running into each other, though…literally.”

“It would help if I watched where I was going.” You made a face and his smile morphed into a wider grin. He was actually kind of cute, you couldn’t help but notice. He shifted the basket under his arm a few seconds later so he could extend his hand out to you.

“It’s Tim.” He sounded a little anxious, yet determined to introduce himself all the same. You stared at him for a moment in surprise before remembering your manners and grasping his hand, this time properly.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m ( _Name_ ).” You shook hands, both of you careful to keep your grips firm. His was larger than yours and calloused, but pleasantly warm.

“Are you from this area?” he asked once you released each other, his eyes burning into yours with unguarded curiosity. You weren’t sure whether he was chatting you up because he found you attractive or if he genuinely wanted to get to know you. That same unusual tension continued to intensify between you all the while.

“Um, yeah. I have an apartment close by.” Wait, why were you telling him where you lived? You hardly even knew each other! “What about you?” You shifted from foot to foot, hoping your sudden unease wasn’t too plain, but also wanting to direct the conversation away from yourself.

“More or less the same thing. I share a place with several guys on the outskirts of town.” So you’d hit the nail on the head earlier. “Chef Boyardee, huh?”

His entertained grin had returned, and your head swung down in shock before your face burned with fresh mortification. He’d stolen a glance at the contents of your basket and dared to tease you about your culinary selections? Now you doubly had to wonder whether he was flirting. It was next to impossible to tell what his real intentions were, which was disconcerting in and of itself.

Yet at the same time, a part of you couldn’t help but like him anyway. You decided to just own it and made an exaggerated shrug of your shoulders.

“So you’ve caught me out, I’m actually just a five-year-old deep down. So sue me, I still really like beefaroni.” You licked your lips in an extravagant motion for effect, and Tim outright laughed.

“Nothing wrong with that. One of the guys I live with pitches a fit if I don’t bring him back entire sacks of candy every time I go out.”

Sure enough, there were multiple bulging packs of assorted sweets loaded into his basket, in fact taking up almost half of the overall space. Now it was your turn to giggle, though you couldn’t help but be amazed.

“And this chocoholic makes  _you_ buy it all for him every time? Why can’t he do it himself?”

Tim laughed again, although this time it sounded a bit more uncomfortable.

“What can I say? I’m the grocery guy.” He said it as nonchalantly as possible, although it was easy to tell there was more to it than he was letting on. As if he sensed your dubiousness, he quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, maybe I’ll see you around sometime if this is your store of choice?”

“Pretty much.” You laughed. “I’m here every week. Just the usual mundane routine. Well, at least until you showed up.”

You realized a second later how that remark could be taken in more than one way, but it was too late to take it back now. Tim was visibly stunned at first, but then his grin returned and it was more sincere than ever.

“I could say the same for you.” He cocked his head a little as you lapsed into a brief silence, and you eyed each other with an unbridled curiosity. You couldn’t put your finger on it for the life of you, but felt like a fool as you struggled to piece together just what it was about Tim that was both intriguing and unsettling at once. It evoked the strangest feeling within you; you wanted to know more about him, yet at the same time he put you on edge.

You couldn’t explain why, and it left you wondering whether you should avoid him or give into the temptation to learn more. Should you become friends to satisfy that curious, overpowering itch, or should you be fleeing in the opposite direction? It was the most bewildering sensation with nothing rational to justify it.

Once again, your good manners won out, not to mention your inherent desire to give everyone a chance to prove themselves first before you judged them.

“Well, I guess I’m going to head out soon.” You smiled, tucking a self-conscious lock of hair behind your ear and failing to notice when his irises carefully followed the path of each movement. “It was nice to meet you, Tim.”

“Sure thing. It was nice to meet you, too.” If nothing else, his tone was honest. He meant it. “I’m actually headed over to checkout, myself. Mind if I join you?”

“Oh. Um, okay. Why not?” You fell into step beside each other as you made your way toward the front of the store, and luckily for you the self-checkout lanes were open. You caught each other’s eyes several times as you scanned and bagged your items, leading to a few chuckles after the first few instances.

Once you’d finished paying and stuffed your receipt into your bag, you hefted it up and waited for Tim to finish. His profile was sturdy and his features were well-defined, although he was only a few inches taller than you, and he did a double-take when he caught you staring. At once you straightened up while trying to look offhand. This seemed to amuse him, and he grinned to himself before finishing up with his own groceries.

“Can I walk you to your car?” The question was a bit bold, and now you were convinced that he was interested in you in some way—it was still impossible to determine if it was romantic or otherwise, but at the very least he wanted to pursue  _something_. Maybe he was hoping to become friends and see where it went. Maybe he was actually a creeper and it was a terrible idea to let him know what your car looked like. Really, at this point you had no way to tell.

“Huh? Oh…all right.” He took you by surprise when he also offered to take one of your bags like a perfect gentleman, and he stashed it in your trunk for you once you reached your Honda Civic in the parking lot. You pushed it shut before wiping your brow and leaning on the back of your car, glancing up at him.

“Thanks, Tim.”

“No problem. Drive home safely, okay?” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if there was something else he wanted to say or ask you, but then he seemed to think better of it. Instead he gave you a little wave followed by a cheeky salute and began striding away. His own car was parked a row away, a silver Toyota Camry from the early 2000s that still appeared to be in good condition.

You ducked inside your car and stuck your keys into the ignition, but you didn’t leave right away. A tiny paranoid part of you wondered if you should let him drive away first, just in case he was curious about where you lived. Of course, you berated yourself for that suspicion only moments later. He’d given you no actual reason to believe you were in any danger and had been nothing but amiable to you since being introduced. 

So what the heck was that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something was amiss about him? If he didn’t intend you any harm, then you didn't know what you were dealing with here. Perhaps you were overthinking things and he was just an ordinary guy. Yet you knew better than to disregard your intuition. If it was screaming at you that there was something off about him, then there must be a lot more to Tim’s story than you knew.

Damn it, you really wanted to learn more. This was probably a terrible idea, but you were already morbidly curious about seeing him again.

Seeing as he hadn’t left yet and you didn’t want it to seem like anything was amiss, you put your car into reverse and backed out of the space, unaware that you were being watched all the while through a Camry’s rear-view mirror.

As you drove away, Tim exhaled within the confines of his own car. The more distance put between the two of you, the more the tension finally began to disperse, taking with it some of that overwhelming sense of familiarity. It was magnetic, an instinctive draw he hadn’t been able to resist for a heartbeat. From the moment your eyes met, he was already done for. Slenderman hadn’t been kidding when he said that the bond was all-consuming; even then, the most humane of his proxies still hadn’t been prepared for it.

Tim, one of the most self-aware members of the team who effortlessly blended in with regular society, had found himself stealthily trailing you throughout the store, taking special care to remain out of sight each time you turned your head to peruse another item. He  _knew_ it made him sound like a creepy asshole of the highest order, but he couldn’t help it. The pull was comforting and warm, something that he hadn’t encountered in a painfully long time, and the immediate desire to look out for your well-being had already become second nature. He was in deep, that was for sure.

His forehead fell forward until it met the top of his steering wheel with a dull  _thunk_ , his hands weakly gripping the sides as the full impact of the situation hit him. There was no way he’d ever be able to tell you the truth, about what he  _really_ did for a living and his dangerous alter ego. Yet there was also no way he’d ever be able to manage without seeing you again. He’d tried to play it as cool as possible, but it was too late. Whether or not you realized it, you were now inextricably connected to him, and he wasn’t going to be able to keeping walking away from you forever.

So what the hell was he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS DON’T TALK SHIT ABOUT CHEF BOYARDEE LOL _(it’s okay you can actually poke fun at it, I don’t mind)._
> 
> Also getting a little creepy there Masky, but ILU a lot


	5. When He Can't Stay Away (Slenderman)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please hang in there - we'll have exposition coming soon for your strange connection to Slender.

The dreams began the very next night.

You couldn’t remember much about them as soon as you awoke each morning, but every time you fell asleep, it was as though you were stepping back into a surreal world with blurred edges and indiscriminate colors, right where you’d left off the night before. Each time you were met with a rising sense of urgency and fear, as if there was something you were supposed to be searching for yet still hadn’t found. You woke up feeling horribly unsettled every day for a week straight, leading to dark circles beneath your eyes and several bleary days at work.

It wasn’t only your dreams, either. You’d started catching odd glimpses of something out of the corner of your eye at unpredictable times during the waking hours, too, something amorphous and dark that you couldn’t quite make sense of that never seemed to slide into proper focus. More than once you also thought you’d seen sheets of notebook paper with bizarre symbols and phrases scribbled upon them strewn about, nailed to unusual places such as tree trunks or bathroom walls, only to twist your head for a second look and be met with nothing at all.

It was mystifying, and a part of you had begun to wonder if you were losing your mind.

Nothing had been the same ever since you survived your terrifying encounter in the woods the week before. As soon as the voice and static faded from your head, some of the fog lifted, making it infinitely easier to navigate the winding back road. Both the faceless man and the creepy hiker had seemed to vanish from sight, stranding you in an eerie silence only disturbed by the harsh sound of your own clipped breaths and the muted rumble of your car’s engine.

By some sheer miracle you were able to escape, although you had been so keyed up that even now you couldn’t recall how on earth you’d managed to drive yourself home in that state. You threw yourself straight into bed, vowing to put it all behind you and never take that ill-fated shortcut ever again.

A part of you could sense that something had changed, though. Nothing would ever be the same. You knew it instinctively, and weren’t sure whether you ought to be frightened by that notion.

Exhausted over the week that followed, you dragged yourself over to the local deli one evening to pick up a club sandwich. At least it was within walking distance of your apartment. You paid for your meal and took a gratifying bite before stepping back onto the path, taking a moment to savor the fresh burst of flavor in your mouth.

It took you a few seconds to realize that everyone else had melted away, leaving you alone in a suddenly very quiet park.

You paused, slowly lowering your sandwich from your mouth. The back of your neck prickled with rising unease, and your food had grown tasteless upon your tongue.

Something was wrong.

Very carefully and while staving off the growing urge to panic, you scanned your surroundings for anything amiss. The silence was almost too heavy, unnaturally so, and when you focused upon the far end of the park, you understood why.

Standing beneath a dim light pole was the same inordinately tall man you’d met in the woods. Once again his disquieting, pale face, bereft of all features, was fixated upon you. He appeared to be wearing the same immaculate suit and tie as before, and before you realized what was happening, your feet carried you closer to him until you stood a mere ten feet away.

Your heart pounded a furious rhythm in your chest. Your mouth had gone dry, and by instinct you knew that you were now face-to-face with an extraordinarily dangerous predator of the highest order.

“Good evening.”

His deep voice startled you so badly that you squeaked in fright. It was indeed the very same voice that had echoed in your head during your previous encounter, which was a terrifying revelation on its own.

“I—“ You had to swallow to regain your courage. It took tremendous effort to stand your ground. “G-good evening.” Your voice came out as nothing more than a strangled whisper. Your horror must be palpable by this point.

“My apologies. It was not my intention to frighten you.” The faceless head tilted a little, and your jaw fell open in wordless surprise. “Please, continue to consume your meal. I merely wished for an opportunity to speak with you.”

With trembling hands, you raised the sandwich back to your mouth, more out of an automatic response than anything else. You dared not disobey, and took a small bite while not tearing your eyes off him for even an instant.

“I assure you that I mean you no harm. Your fear is unfounded.” His low, rumbling voice took on something of a pacifying edge. “I have tried…communicating with you in other ways, less direct and more subtle. But it seems to have caused you nothing but distress instead, and for that, I must also apologize.”

“Wait…” You swallowed before continuing to speak. “Are you talking about…those dreams? And the strange things I’ve been seeing?”

He bowed his head.

“Why have you been trying to contact me?” The entire situation was unreal, honestly. You were standing before a creature that could have stepped right out of a child’s worst nightmare, yet you were holding a calm conversation with him. He had even apologized to you…twice. Yet despite his promise not to hurt you, you still felt a distinct twinge of anxiety as he never once broke his “gaze” away from you. Even without eyes you could feel its intensity, and not a single thing about any of this made the slightest lick of sense.

“I will reveal that to you in due time. For now, perhaps it is best if we assume a more gradual approach. Therefore, I would like to introduce myself. I am the Slenderman.”

_Slenderman._  The name alone seemed to resonate within your head and invoked an instant sense of innate discomfort. But the very last thing you wanted was to come across as rude to this preternatural being who was clearly more than capable of ending your life if you tested his patience, so you hurried to respond.

“I-I see. My name is ( _Name_ ).” Your eyes widened as soon as the words left your mouth. Why on earth did you tell him  _that_? Your voice was already cracking with fear as it was. Slenderman sighed.

“Please allow me to reiterate that I bear you no ill will. I know that you fear me, but I vow to you that I will never let you come to harm. Not by my own hand, nor anyone else’s.”

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, “Why? You…killed that other man, didn’t you?”

“In due time,” he replied calmly, folding his arms in front of him. His fingers were long and powerful, as white as the rest of him, and they steepled together just above his waist. “And yes, I did kill him. His intentions toward you were less than honorable, as I’m sure you realized during your interaction with him. He was a parasite of the worst kind, reeking of deception and harboring a rapacious appetite for the unsavory. His death was inevitable.”

“I suppose I should be thanking you for saving my life.” You shivered, yet felt numb at the same time as he so casually dismissed the hiker’s murder. Was any of this really happening? “Was it your doing, then, when I was able to leave the woods afterward? Prior to that, the road seemed interminable.”

“Correct.” If you weren’t mistaken, he seemed pleased that you’d picked up on that. “You would not have been able to leave that road if I hadn’t made it so.”

“Were you planning to trap me there?” You were beyond even asking how that was possible by this point, as it was a given that Slenderman possessed frightening abilities that could bring impracticalities to life.

He hesitated. “Initially, yes. You had strayed too close to my territory, and I sensed something was…different. I led you there, but soon came to recognize my folly. As I stated, I will not permit any harm to befall you.”

“I don’t understand.” You felt helpless.

“I know,” he answered, “That will change, I promise. I will leave you to your own affairs tonight, but I will see you again soon. Rest assured that the dreams will stop. It was never my intention to deprive you of your rest. Good night.”

“Good night, Slenderman.” Your voice still trembled, unsure of what else to say. Then you blinked, and he was gone. Slowly the air seemed to grow less stifling around you, and you jumped when you heard a squirrel chitter in a nearby tree. Footsteps now resounded from behind you, and a jogger who hadn’t been there mere seconds before was now trotting past, intent upon her workout as if nothing had ever been amiss. The normal sounds of the night had returned, as had the town’s occupants, leaving you as the only oddity standing awkwardly in the center of the path with a dumbfounded expression on your face.

You were struck by the notion that you were the only one who had even experienced that strange rift in reality, and your grip was painfully tight around the aluminum foil encasing your sandwich. True, he didn’t _seem_  to want to hurt you, but you couldn’t even imagine what else he might have in mind.

_The truth._  You’d said you wanted to know. But did you really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am I doing with my life, guys


	6. When He Can't Stay Away (Jeff the Killer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, there will be exposition coming up soon. There's a reason Jeff can't kill you (refer to tags), no matter how desperately he wants to. Also, reader has the dubious honor of being pretty much the only normal human to stand up to Jeff with such contempt and get away with it. :)

The dark-haired man paced back and forth outside on the veranda. The metallic sheen of his knife glinted ominously in the moonlight, and it was saying something that the killer with the Glasgow grin somehow had a horrible scowl etched upon his face.

“Fuck,” he was muttering to himself over and over. “ _Fuck_!”

He’d been going back and forth over this for a week straight. It was torturous, and he still was no closer to a final decision than he had been several days ago. As soon as he’d returned to the mansion, injured and furious and conflicted all at once, Slenderman had known. Of course he had; that pasty asshole always knew everything. But what made matters a hundred times worse was when Ben somehow got wind of it, spread the news to the entire team, and then  _went to town._

Even now, Jeff’s eye twitched from just thinking about it. That little elf fucker thought the whole situation was hilarious, and he made sure that the group’s most infamous killer knew it. Constantly.

Need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night? Better not bring your phone with you, or else you’ll wake up the entire mansion with Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together” blasting at top volume.

How about trying to take care of a stupid mission just to get out of the house and away from the obnoxious smirks of your colleagues? Get taunted about how you’d better not get injured again, or else you’ll need “someone” to patch it up for you. Cue immature giggling and a knife embedded in the TV set after the digital gamer made his tactful getaway with only a second to spare.

It was endless, and it had been such a painfully long week that at last Jeff had reached his snapping point. Even his usual stream of violent death threats seemed to have little to no effect on the other proxies, all of whom seemed to derive great amusement from the situation he’d landed himself in. All of it was made only worse by the fact that Jeff was the very first among them to experience this, meaning this was uncharted territory as far as any of them were concerned. Plus they were delighted to finally have a way to get under his skin, as Jeff was usually the one dishing all hell out instead of the reverse.

“FINE,” he’d barked to himself in the mirror earlier this evening, fed up with his eyes blazing, “If I just kill her, then problem solved!” Then maybe Ben and the others would shut up and stop making his life even more hellish than it already was.

Of course, Slenderman had strongly objected to this “solution.”

“You know exactly what will happen,” he’d warned when Jeff was on the verge of busting through the mansion’s front doors, materializing behind him out of nowhere, “There’s no going back. This falls beyond your control, and you will be of no use to me as a proxy if you follow through.”

“Fuck off,” Jeff hissed, disappearing into the night without a backward glance. There was no way that his strength and abilities would somehow magically diminish once she was dead. In fact, right now she was nothing but a hindrance, causing him infinite humiliation from his fellow proxies. He pointedly ignored the fact that both his physical speed and ease of stealth had noticeably improved while he was on his way to stab her to death, of course.

Because  _fuck that weak shit._ There was no way in hell he was going to be—! To her?! It was complete bullshit, and he was determined to put an end to it tonight once and for all.

…Or, so he thought. Why couldn’t he do it?  _Why_? Normally, he would have already long busted into his victim’s home by now and silenced them in the space of a heartbeat. Instead he was wandering up and down on her balcony while wielding a very dangerous weapon and cursing under his breath. Somehow none of her neighbors had noticed him yet, perhaps because everyone’s blinds were drawn because of the late hour, though he hardly paid them any notice thanks to his inner turmoil.

There was only one way to go about this. He needed to just bite the bullet and do it. It would be one of his easiest kills yet. Don’t think about it; just take out the useless broad and be done with it!

He didn’t allow himself to worry about it any further, and picked the lock on the sliding glass door with only marginally less ease than usual. He edged himself inside the dark apartment and darted over to her bed, where the young woman was fast asleep inside a nest of thick cotton blankets.

The killer swallowed and raised his knife over his head, slanting forward until he crouched over her, his uncanny lidless eyes trained upon her slumbering profile. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, comfortable rhythm, exposing the flesh of her bare neck to him. Perfect. All he had to do was open her throat, and his personal nightmare would be over.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Two minutes. Five.

He remained frozen in his position hunched over her, his limbs starting to cramp a little, yet the knife was still no closer to her artery. No matter how much he screamed at himself internally to move, to do something, a _nything_ , for some godforsaken reason he just couldn’t bring himself to take that final deadly swing.

Then he accidentally shifted his leg, and she stirred in her sleep until her eyes fluttered open.

They stared at each other for a solid moment in complete, utter shock. This…definitely had not gone according to plan. Then she started to scream.

“What the—?!” she shrieked, flailing to free herself from her blankets and shove him away with all of her strength. “What are you doing in my apartment?  _Get out_!”

“Shut the hell up!” Jeff roared, not accustomed to dealing with a victim whose screams he couldn’t instantly silence due to his skill with the blade, “Banshee, you’re going to make someone go deaf!” He winced and threw his hands over his ears, his weapon clattering to the floor in the process.

“Are you kidding me? I wake up in the middle of the night to find some creepy fucker leaning over me with a knife, and you want me _not_  to scream?!” Before he could make another move or stop her, she scrambled off her bed and seized his knife from the floor. She brandished it toward him, keeping her back to the wall and refusing to budge her eyes from him for even a moment.

“Give that back. Right now,” Jeff snapped, sounding so dangerous that she gulped. But still she shook her head with determination, and his lip curled back in a furious snarl. “If you force me to take that back from you, I’ll carve your face up until it’s unrecognizable, bitch!”

“Go to hell, you piece of shit!” she shouted back, “How about I cut you up first? Oh, wait, someone already  _did_ that! Get out of my apartment now before I shank you with your own knife! I’m not going to let you murder me, asshole!”

“FUCK!” Jeff flopped down onto the bed in immense frustration, his fingertips fiercely digging into his skull as if he wanted to tear his hair out. “Why is this happening? Why couldn’t I just kill you? Why can’t I fucking stay away from you? What the hell is going on?!”

“I—you…wait, what…?” She faltered, lowering the knife for a moment out of sheer astonishment once she’d had a second to let all of that sink in. “Okay, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Freddy Krueger—Joker—whoever you are—”

“JEFF,” he exploded, interrupting her as much to his own surprise as hers, “It’s Jeff the Killer, you dumb bitch!”

“Seriously? That is the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.” She rolled her eyes at him, and now more than ever he wondered just what had stopped him from stabbing her in the neck. “Is that supposed to intimidate someone? I  _helped_ you last week, and you came back here to snuff me? I never called the cops on you, jackass! What’s your problem?” She waved the knife in the air in exasperation.

“Shut up,” Jeff growled again, “Fuck this! Just…just give me my knife back, and I’ll leave! _Now_.” His mind raced at a million miles per minute. This wasn’t good. He’d come here to put an end to all of this, yet he’d completely botched it. When push came to shove, he couldn’t bring himself to come even close, much to his consternation. He needed to figure out an alternate game plan. This situation was screwed up in every possible way.

“As if I’m going to buy that? Hell no!” She seethed. He didn’t know whether to be more amused or irritated by the fact that her anger toward him seemed to eclipse her fear of him. At the very least, she wasn’t dull prey.

“I said, NOW.” He startled her with his burst of speed when he sprang forward and pinned her against the wall, gripping her wrist just tightly enough for her to loosen her hold around the hilt of his knife in surprise. He released her and snatched up his trademark weapon, then shot her one last (deeply conflicted) glower before he hastened back onto her veranda and leaped out into the night.

This wasn’t good. He knew he was in for a series of unbearably smug looks as soon as he returned, but he was most furious of all with Slenderman. Jeff  _wanted her dead_! This was the first time he’d ever targeted someone and been unable to finish the job, and he felt like he was about to explode as a result. The boss owed him an immediate explanation as to why he couldn’t follow through, stat.

He just wanted his life to go back to normal, but as a sinking, horrible part of him had already realized, it would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw I want to thank TacticalWriter for all of their support and comments! You made my day. <3


	7. When He Can't Stay Away (Eyeless Jack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all you wonderful people! I'm working on getting EJ's and Masky's chapters caught up ASAP so we can get on with the overall story. Can I just say that I'm a tad overwhelmed by all of the support I've received, but in the best way possible?? Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to read this story, as well as for the comments and kudos! I seriously love you guys. <3 
> 
> I ALSO LOVE EJ 
> 
> A LOT

You had the most unnerving feeling you were being watched. The worst part was, you also had a terrible inkling that you knew who was responsible.

Who else could it be? You called the police on that fateful night after the gruesome killing you’d witnessed, but to your shock, they said that there was nothing to be found at that location. Not even a trace of blood. You attempted to describe the tweaker to them, but without even a name to work with, you were chastised for wasting their time and left absolutely stymied.

You knew with certainty what you’d seen. It was the sort of thing that traumatized people, something you would probably need to get therapy for down the line. But how? How had he disposed of the body _and_  the blood so quickly, to the point where even trained professionals couldn’t find anything?

Even more frightening was that he knew your face. In fact, he went out of his way to chase you down right after committing a murder. You weren’t certain if it was because he wanted to ensure that you didn’t speak out or call the cops (too late for that, for all the good it did), although a part of you was petrified that he would come back to silence you now that you’d alerted the local police department of his crime.

Consequently, the week that followed passed in a constant state of anxiety. You couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder and refused to take any more walks at night, usually a favorite pastime of yours. You had repeated nightmares of a tall man with a blue mask shrouding his face, and you were starting to lose weight from sheer stress.

Then it began.

The first time you saw him again, you were riding the local bus to the grocery store as an alternative to wasting gas or walking alone. It was a bleak, otherwise unremarkable afternoon characterized by intermittent drizzling and dreary skies. You absentmindedly stared out the window as the damp city streets passed by in a blur, rain drumming against the glass, when you had to do a sudden double-take.

It couldn’t be. But it was. While the bus idled at a red light, a familiar ghastly figure was waiting just behind a bus stop across the street, veiled in shadow. He stood precisely within your line of vision as if the bus had braked in perfect alignment, and he was staring straight at you. Despite his creepy mask and the distance that separated you, you couldn’t shake the sensation that his gaze was piercing through you. No one standing at the bus stop a mere five feet away from him seemed to take notice of him. But you did.

You gasped in horror and recoiled in your seat, alarming the elderly woman seated on your right. She made a move to steady you with concern and your reaction drew a few curious stares from the other passengers. You apologized and assured her you were fine, but your heart was thundering for the rest of the bus ride. You didn’t sleep well that night.

The next time you saw him, it was two days later and you were leaving the office, relieved to clock out after a long day of work. You bid your co-workers goodbye and opted to take the stairs, the healthier option after you’d been sedentary in front of your desk for so many hours.

You made it down the first few steps before you happened to glance over the railing. Several flights down, at the base of the empty stairwell and staring up at you with his head tilted toward you, was the strange masked man.

You cried out before fleeing back the way you’d come, scaring the hell out of your coworkers, and begged your former Marine colleague to take the elevator with you. You were tight-lipped in terms of providing a more detailed explanation, as you didn’t want to receive the same treatment as when you spoke to the police, but your coworker seemed to sense that your fear was genuine and agreed to accompany you down. There was no more sign of the man, but it didn't make you feel any better. He knew where you worked.

The third time you noticed him, however, your fear began to ebb away, only to be replaced with growing indignation. How dare he intimidate you like this and make you feel as though you couldn’t lead a normal life? How dare he threaten your sense of safety and well-being? By then you had already decided that you would confront him if you saw him again, although you did take an extra precaution by purchasing some bear mace first. It couldn’t hurt. You also had 911 on speed dial and vowed to approach him only if there were others nearby. 

The result was that this time, you were the one to take him by surprise. As soon as you spotted him in your peripherals, observing you from across the street while you cashed a check at the bank, you charged right into traffic in your dogged determination to make this jerk stop. It was broad daylight, although once again no one else seemed to take any notice of him except for you. You narrowly dodged a flashy BMW that blasted its horn while zipping past, and several pedestrians shot you funny looks.

But right then, you only cared about one thing.

The man’s posture tensed as you stormed over to him, and he actually took a step back when you marched right up and thrust a finger into his chest.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m  _sick_ of seeing you everywhere I go. Stop terrorizing me! If you’re planning to murder me, then get it over with already!”

You glared at him with such ferocity that he seemed too stunned to respond for several moments. He slowly raised both of his arms in front of him in a deferential gesture to show that he was unarmed.

“Whoa, wait a minute. Listen,” he said in that same throaty voice, speaking slowly and evenly. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. I never intended you any harm in the first place. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“By  _stalking_ me, creep?” Your glower intensified and you heard him suck in a deep breath. You removed your hand from his chest, only to reach for the bear mace in your pocket. Hey, you could never be too careful.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he muttered. “You probably haven’t noticed, but you get shadowed quite often around here.”

“Yeah, by  _you_ ,” you snorted. He shook his head, somehow coming across as much calmer than he had the first time you’d seen him.

“No. That’s not what I mean,” he answered, “There are others. People who take notice of you in the streets and are careful to keep a certain number of steps behind you. Sometimes they follow you for entire blocks.”  _Until he stops them, that is._ But he wasn’t about to say that part out loud.

“I…what?” A renewed hint of fear finally crept into your voice, and you tightened your grip on the bear mace while eyeing him with suspicion. “Are...are you serious?”

“Deadly. But don’t worry about it. I already told you I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Who  _are_ you?” you breathed, backing away from him as you recalled the way he’d expertly sliced into the drug addict’s stomach and cannibalized his kidney in less than a minute, all while choking him to death. Not only was he a murderer, but clearly he was a psychopath as well. Your earlier surge of foolish courage was quickly giving way to common sense as your instinct for self-preservation kicked in.

“My name’s…EJ.” He hesitated for a moment. “You can also call me Jack. I know you’re terrified of me after what you saw last time. I don’t blame you for it. So I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. I will never hurt you. Completely the opposite, actually. All I want is to keep you safe.”

“But why? I don’t understand. We’re total strangers,” you pointed out weakly. He bobbed his head.

“Yes and no. If you’ll give me a chance to explain it, there’s a lot more to our situation than meets the eye.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You were extremely nervous, and he could tell. He huffed out a low sigh.

“Never mind. I can see that today’s not the best time for it.” He shook his head, though his tone of voice was placating when he continued. “But I wasn’t trying to frighten you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“…It’s ( _Name_ ).” You had no idea why you were introducing yourself to him, and in retrospect that was probably a horrible idea, but it was too late to take it back now. You couldn't believe this was the same monster you witnessed slaughtering that man. “My name, I mean.”

“( _Name_ ).” You could almost hear the slight smile in his voice as he repeated it. “Thank you. I know it required a lot of nerve to come speak to me like this.”

“Jack.” Your heart was already stuttering in your chest from anxiety, as if you knew what you were about to ask might be something you’d regret. “Why do you hide behind that mask?”

You reached up to pinch the edge of it with two of your fingers without waiting for an answer. At once one of his hands shot up, encased in a black fingerless glove, and his fingers wrapped around yours. His flesh was chilled and a somber shade of gray, you realized with a sudden jolt of shock. It rendered you speechless for several seconds until he pried your hand loose from his mask and released you. You were still too bewildered to react when he made himself scarce without another word, seeming to vanish into the shadows between two nearby buildings.

Now you felt even more disconcerted on multiple levels. What was he concealing behind the mask? What was wrong with his skin? And most importantly, what did he mean when he said “our situation”?

Did you even want to know the answers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, at the time of posting this, it's Veilsan13's birthday! <3 If you're a fan of Creepypastas, which I imagine you are if you're reading this, then please do yourself a favor and go check out their brilliant work (if you haven't already)! Their writing is excellent and I've been continually impressed by all of their attention to detail and the time spent fleshing out each character. It's well-worth your time!


	8. When He Can't Stay Away (Masky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did something a little unorthodox with this chapter. There was originally some dialogue in Spanish that I was going to include a translation for at the end, but I decided against it because it might take readers who don’t speak it out of the story. Therefore, if you see dialogue in italics, it means that they’re conversing in another language. Spanish is my 2nd language so I was having fun writing it up, but ultimately I felt it would be better this way. This is more of a one-off and won’t be a regular thing in the story, I promise!
> 
> BTW, yes, I recall that this is in fact a proxy we’re dealing with. I know Tim seems quite normal so far compared to the rest, but I haven’t forgotten that this is Masky. ;) The truth will come out and get darker next chapter!

Lovely. This had been one of the most drawn-out and stressful days at work you’d had in ages. You knew it was already almost 8 p.m., but right then you wanted nothing more than to gulp down a delicious, steaming hot drink pumped full of caffeine. You  _really_ needed a pick-me-up, late night be damned.

That was what led you to barge into the nearest coffee shop, a local joint called La Boca Feliz owned by a sweet older couple who brewed a damn good cup of joe. You weren’t the only one who’d figured out that they were a hidden gem, because it had skyrocketed in popularity ever since you first moved to this city. Sure, there would always be the Starbucks loyalists, but more and more people preferred the homey atmosphere and delicious home-baked goods from Maria and Esteban Garcia, yourself included.

“Hi, Maria,” you greeted when you walked in. She was a portly woman in her late sixties with bright brown eyes, plump caramel skin and long, graying dark hair that she kept in a tidy bun atop her head. She always wore a scarlet-painted smile to greet her customers and you were on friendly terms, another reason you continued to give them your business. She was almost like a second mother to you in some ways.

“ _Welcome back_!” She greeted you in Spanish and beamed, pausing amid sweeping the floor behind the counter. “ _Nice to see you again! You doing all right, honey_?”

“ _More or less_.” You gave a rueful shrug, walking up and resting your arms upon the counter so you could converse more easily. “ _I spent the whole day knuckling down without being able to finish anything, though. It put me in a sour mood and now I need something high octane to take the edge off_.”

You both laughed while she nodded in sympathy, although before she could open her mouth to respond, her eyes suddenly began to twinkle while she looked past you. You were briefly confused, at least until someone tapped on your shoulder.

You turned your head, only to have your jaw drop in surprise when you were met with a familiar pair of dark blue eyes beneath sturdy brows. It had only been a week since you’d last seen each other, but you hadn’t anticipated running into him again here, of all places.

“Tim!” You reverted back to English. “Sorry, I didn’t see you were already here! I kind of just made a beeline straight for Maria as soon as I made it through the door.”

“That’s okay.” He chuckled. “Hi, ( _Name_ ). Small world, isn’t it? Are you just picking up something to go, or do you have a few minutes?” He gestured toward a small table near the back of the shop, where you recognized his leather jacket slung over the back of the chair. It was only large enough to seat two people.

Well, even though it was late in the evening, the shop was almost full. You nodded despite some of your earlier misgivings about him. You figured that if he gave off any more unusual vibes then you could simply get up and walk out, no risk involved. Besides, an angry Maria was guaranteed to be far more terrifying than anything he could conjure up himself, a mental image that had you inwardly giggling.

“Sure, why not? Fair warning, though. I’m coming off a lousy day and I’m here to power through it by getting wired.” You winked.

“Duly noted. Oh, let me cover that for you.” He jerked his head toward the older woman, who knew what you wanted and was already bustling around behind the counter to make it for you. You flustered at once.

“Ah, no, don’t worry about it! They’re reasonably priced here, anyway. You don’t need to pay for anything!” You waved your hands in front of you with insistence, the motion almost comical. Tim laughed at your over-the-top display.

“I know. But I’m the one who asked you to sit with me. I honestly don’t mind grabbing you a coffee.” He seemed to be in a good mood, all things considered. Today he wore a burgundy flannel shirt which suited him well, and his hands were casually stuffed inside the baggy pockets of his cargo pants. Despite his laid-back posture, though, he was completely focused upon you.

“Well… thank you. Now I feel bad.” You blew out a remorseful sigh and he grinned while shaking his head.

“Don’t be. It’s my treat.” He slid some money across the counter just as Maria had finished preparing your drink. She seemed startled by this chain of events as her head darted back and forth between you.

“ _I wasn’t going to charge you anything since you had a bad day. But are you here on a date? Don’t tell me that this is your boyfriend_!” She was stage-whispering to you from across the counter and your face instantly burned red. Behind her in the background, Esteban had emerged from the kitchen with a tray of freshly baked orejas and was grinning from ear-to-ear as he, too, pieced the situation together. You prayed with all your might that Tim couldn’t understand before hissing back to her.

“ _Of course not! We barely know each other! Maria_!” You made a long-suffering face at her, which only served to further strengthen her glee. You seized the drink before she could cause any more damage and hurried after Tim toward the small table near the window, dropping into your seat as you fought down your embarrassment.

“You all right?” Tim arched an eyebrow at you, a grin twitching at his mouth.

“ _Please_ tell me you don’t speak Spanish.” Your tone of voice was defeated.

“Nope. But I got the gist anyway.” His grin widened and you resisted the urge to moan in frustration. “Sounds like the owners are pretty fond of you.”

“You’ve got that right,” you replied, finally managing to smile back, “Problem is, they like to tease me a little too much.”

“Sorry if I’ve made things kind of problematic for you.” He laughed softly over the rim of his cup, but then he cleared his throat and at once seemed a little more shy. “So… how have you been since we last ran into each other?”

You proceeded to make mildly uncomfortable small talk for the next twenty minutes or so. You were aware that it felt an awful lot like an awkward first date, though perhaps that was mostly just because of Maria and Esteban chortling and gossiping to each other like school children behind the counter the entire time. Still, you were grateful for the drink and found that you were actually having a nice time.

At length Tim’s phone went off in his pocket and he fished for it before swiping his screen, shooting you an apologetic look. His expression darkened over the next minute as he scanned over the text he’d just received. When he finished, he glanced back up at you with disappointment written in his features.

“Sorry, ( _Name_ ). Looks like I have to get going sooner than I thought.”

“One of the guys you live with? Or in trouble with your girlfriend?” You had to fight the urge to laugh when his face turned a healthy shade of pink.

“It’s my boss,” he mumbled, averting his eyes from yours, “I, uh, don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Hey, I’m just teasing. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable! I won’t keep you, though. Must be important if your boss is messaging you this late.”

“Don’t sweat it. Yeah, you could say that.” He ran his hand through his dark hair, looking frustrated. Then his eyes flickered back over to you with unmistakable nervousness. “Listen, I don’t want this to come across the wrong way. I swear I’m not some weirdo or hitting on you. But… want to exchange numbers? I’m hoping I can see you again or keep in touch without relying upon these chance encounters.”

He fidgeted with his phone as he spoke, and you had the distinct impression that he rarely asked girls for their number. He seemed to be honest enough, though, and you weren’t feeling nearly as suspicious of him as you first expected. You softened.

“Sure. Why not? Add me and shoot me a text so I know it’s you?”

He brightened almost instantly, though it was clear he was trying to temper it, which was quite cute in and of itself. You recited your cell phone number to him and thirty seconds later, your text message notification went off in your bag.

“Aha, there he is! It’s Tim…?” You trailed off, realizing you’d never gotten his full name.

“Tim Wright,” he clarified. “And yours?”

You told him and finished editing each other’s names, and then pocketed your devices in preparation to clean up and head out. He gently caught your wrist before you could leave the table, however, taking you aback. You stared at him more out of surprise than anything else, as his expression was very serious while he intently looked into your eyes.

“Listen. I know this is going to sound strange, but if you ever feel like you’re in danger or afraid, don’t hesitate to call me. Night or day. I mean it. Okay?”

“Huh?” This threw you for a complete loop, though you were more bemused than anything else. Where had  _that_ come from? You felt yourself nodding your head in perplexed assent after a few moments had passed, and his body relaxed. His relief was palpable, which was very odd, though a part of you was touched that he offered to look out for you in the first place.

Even if you doubted you would need it. You had to admit that the suggestion was a little eerie. Was he expecting something to happen?

He gave your wrist a gentle squeeze before releasing it, and offered you a final small smile before trawling for a cigarette in his pocket. He lit up once he was outside of the shop and began taking long strides away, in a bit of a hurry thanks to his boss. You were left gazing after him and wondering just how many mysteries were left to unravel about this man.

You groaned when Maria let out an audible squeal from behind you, however. A grown-ass woman behaving like a teenaged busybody was not what you needed right then, no matter how much you loved her.

“Maria!  _No_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMEONE GET THE SQUIRT BOTTLE. DOWN, MARIA


	9. The Ties That Bind Us (Slenderman)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the wonderful comments and support! I love you guys <3 I know that this fandom isn't getting quite as much traction these days, so I don't even know how many people will end up even seeing this, but I'm having so much fun working on it and I hope that you enjoy it!

Dusk settled upon the city like an oppressive blanket of superficial calm, gloomy hues of gray, muddled blue, and dull violet bleeding together across the horizon. The air was so still that it felt stagnant and the town’s residents kept their voices low as they hurried along, moving in tight groups while never straying far from each other’s sides. You couldn’t shake a persistent sense of unease that seemed to only grow heavier as the night pressed on, and it seemed that you weren’t the only one.

You nervously adjusted your hold on your bag of groceries, already regretting your decision to walk to the supermarket instead of driving. Thanks to elevated levels of crime and murder in recent months, traveling alone in these parts had become a terrible idea. Although you supposed a morbidly curious part of you still wondered if you would ever run into  _him_ again, which played a subconscious role in why you were doing this.

It had now been a few weeks since your last meeting, although true to his word, the disorienting dreams had stopped. You weren’t sure if that was even more alarming, however, because that pretty much confirmed his ability to mess with someone’s head however he pleased. You were at his mercy, as was anyone else who happened to cross his path.

Although for whatever reason, he seemed to have singled you out… and you highly doubted that everyone else was quite as “fortunate” as you’d been. Thinking of the hiker, you couldn’t help but shudder.

The constant sensation of being observed never quite faded, and returning to your day-to-day life in the meantime was a challenge now that you knew first-hand what lurked out there. You hadn’t bothered confiding in anyone about the eldritch creature you encountered. There was no way anyone would ever believe you, and the last thing you needed was to have your friends and colleagues wonder if you were losing your mind. Sometimes you wondered that yourself.

The thing they don’t tell you about the descent into possible insanity is that you find yourself contemplating all sorts of things in the process. You’re actively aware of it, straining against it, conducting research in desperate attempts to identify a rational explanation, but deep down you still question whether your own judgment can even be trusted anymore. Is any of this wise? Should you just surrender to it and seek professional help, or should you allow what you’ve seen to become grounded in your new reality?

Maybe you had been a lost cause since the moment you met him. Or was it even before that, the whole reason you were hallucinating his presence in the first place?

Or was he real?

Once again, either possibility was terrifying.

So that was what led you to veer away from the usual path that would have taken you straight home, safe and sound and able to drown yourself in music and Netflix to temporarily forget your troubles. Instead, your feet carried you over to the very same park where you’d last come across Slenderman. It was strangely deserted, which emboldened you to raise your arms and cup your mouth.

“If you’re here, will you please show yourself so I know that I’m not going insane?”

You were greeted with more stifling silence for several long moments. Then you felt the little hairs rising upon the back of your neck, and couldn’t resist the compulsion to spin around on your heel. You gasped.

There he was, disturbingly tall and disconcerting in his thin frame and blank face beneath another street lamp. His posture remained as impeccable as his suit while time seemed to halt around you. He said nothing, however, and after a few seconds you realized that he was waiting for you to say something.

“You are real,” you breathed, not knowing whether you should feel relieved or more horrified than ever.

“Of course.” He angled his head ever-so-slightly. “You are perfectly sane.”

“How did you get here so quickly? Were you already close by?” You were proud that your voice didn’t crack despite your astonishment.

“I am wherever I wish to be, at all times. The precise concept may be difficult for a mortal to grasp, however. I say this without condescension. While this may not make any sense to you given your current perception of the corporeal plane, I can be both here and in my own territory simultaneously. My abilities exceed the physical boundaries with which you are familiar.”

Your mouth fell open as you processed the bewildering revelation. “I see. Then you’re probably capable of feats that no human can hope to fully comprehend.”

“Perhaps.” His featureless stare somehow continued to pierce you. “Although that does not mean I cannot illustrate through analogies to better facilitate your understanding.”

“Slenderman. The last time we met, you told me that you won’t hurt me, that there’s something we need to discuss. When are you going to explain what’s going on?” You knew it was a bold request, but you had the most peculiar feeling that your audacity wouldn’t upset him. Indeed, you heard him merely huff out a low sigh before dipping his head.

“Very well. I suppose there is little point in postponing any further. Your curiosity about me has increased exponentially, which is an innate facet of human nature. I can sense that you still fear me, yet that same fear is overshadowed by your desire to know more. To learn the truth, as you’ve previously expressed.”

“Yes.” Your voice now sounded small.

“Come, then. Let us be seated over here. There is no need for you to be uncomfortable. Set your bag down.”

You gave a start. You’d forgotten that you were still hauling around a heavy bag of groceries and blushed self-consciously. It was an oddly considerate gesture on his part, and you weren’t sure what to think as you followed him to a nondescript park bench several yards away.

Once you were both seated (you made sure to keep a healthy distance between the two of you), you alternated between staring down at your fiddling fingers in your lap and over at Slenderman’s intimidating profile. Now it was your turn to wait for him to speak, and you had no idea what he was about to say. What explanation could he possibly offer for all of this?

As it turned out, his response surpassed your every expectation.

“Where do I begin?” His voice had fallen into a murmur, speaking more to himself at first rather than you. “I suppose I had best avoid an overly convoluted explanation. This will be difficult enough to register and accept as it is. Before I start, allow me to reiterate something to you. I offer you nothing but the truth. You may not believe what I’m about to reveal to you, but all of it is legitimate, no matter how unlikely it may sound.”

“I understand,” you said quietly.

“Very well. As you know, I am the Slenderman. I manage a team of very capable individuals known as proxies. I do not wish to alarm you, but when I say capable, I am referring to their expertise in homicide. My proxies stealthily hunt down and kill their assigned targets. Keep in mind that the marks I identify are generally not arbitrary; each of them has committed some form of atrocity or terrible crime that would see them imprisoned by the laws of your society.”

“You command a team of followers…proxies…to kill for you.” You sounded deadpan as you repeated it, trying to make sure that you had this right. He inclined his head.

“Correct. Those who trespass in my territory without permission or put my proxies in harm’s way are also considered. However, such scenarios are comparatively rare.”

“But didn’t you say last time that you’d lured me into your territory? I was the  _definition_  of an arbitrary victim then!” An accusing tone made your voice sharp, and he exhaled again.

“That is also correct. I am getting to that. The whole reason I felt compelled to lead you into my territory to begin with directly coincides with my reason for being unable to harm you. As you no doubt have already ascertained for yourself, I am not human. However, I do exhibit some traits that reflect humanity, most prominently in the rare bonds that I create. Above all, there is one particular connection that both my proxies and I are capable of experiencing. It is never a guarantee, but always a possibility.”

“A connection?” Your mouth felt dry.

“Yes. I refer to it as the bond,” he confirmed, “It is somewhat similar to the human concept of ‘soulmates’, although with several noticeable differences. It can only happen once, if at all, and it can occur with any human of any age or sex. Once we have felt the pull and have physically met our human, the bond is sealed and there is no going back. It grants extraordinary improvements to our abilities.

“If anything were to happen to this human in question, not only would we lose our newfound enhancements, but we would in fact regress to a nearly powerless state as a consequence. The proxy in question—including myself—will feel obliged to protect their bonded one at any cost. As you’ve likely surmised by now, you are my bonded one. That is what I sensed when I first caught a whiff of your presence. That is why I will never harm you nor permit any harm to befall you.”

You were speechless. You gaped at him while mouthing at him wordlessly for several seconds, absorbing his little speech while feeling more dumbfounded than ever.

“…Your bonded one.” You sounded croaky. He turned his empty face toward you.

“I understand this is overwhelming for you. Certainly neither of us expected our first meeting to culminate in something of this nature. But it is the truth. I never expected to encounter my bonded one, yet you’ve proven me wrong. It is a powerful instinct beyond my control or the control of any of my proxies.”

“What does this mean, then?” You felt weak in the knees. “I-I mean, you just confessed that you not only murder people, but you also employ an entire team of trained killers to help you do it. Then you go on to explain that I’m essentially your soulmate, as if we’d been merely discussing the weather. How am I supposed to react to this? Where do we  _go_ from here?”

His sigh in response was the heaviest one yet. He folded his hands neatly in his lap.

“Your reaction is understandable. What we do, not to mention what we are, is highly distressing to most humans. But none of my proxies will ever lay a finger on you. I will personally see to that.” The air suddenly darkened and grew frostier around you, and a foreboding sense of ire seemed to consume him. Then it gradually faded away and returned to normal, the sense of peril dissipating as he regained his calm.

You trembled. “Does this mean that you will always be watching me?” The implications of that were far too numerous to even begin to count.

“Yes. To ensure your safety, I have no other choice.” His voice almost sounded apologetic, as he could sense your trepidation. “You must understand. As my bonded one, there is virtually nothing I would refuse you. But your safety is paramount. If you wish for us to never meet again, I…will honor that. Yet I will still continue to watch from afar for your protection. That is the one point on which I cannot compromise with you.”

Now he sounded pained, and you were taken aback when you realized it had surfaced when he suggested that you might never want to see him again. The notion of your separation actually aggrieved this all-powerful, preternatural being? What an outlandish situation you’d landed yourself in.

“I didn’t say that I never want to see you again,” you answered slowly, and even without looking at him you could sense his surprise. “Forgive me for panicking over the thought of never having any privacy again, though. As I’m sure you’ve already gathered, I have some introverted tendencies.”

You sent him a weak smile, and after a moment you actually heard him give a low chuckle, much to your amazement.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that much, ( _Name_ ),” he rumbled, using your name for the first time, “My intent is never to intrude upon your privacy. Your mental well-being is as important to me as your physical. I will only ever observe to confirm that you aren’t in any danger. Nothing beyond that. I promise you this.”

“Thank you.” You knew you were in no position to argue with him, to demand that he leave you alone  _entirely,_ as apparently it would cause him some form of actual anguish thanks to your bond. Plus with his supernatural abilities, there was precious little you could do, anyway. If he was offering to respect your primary boundaries, then you weren’t about to push your luck by spitting on the proposition.

He pushed himself off the bench before extending his arm to you. His long, white fingers were as lean as the rest of him, and after a moment of hesitation you accepted. “I confess the bond makes it difficult to keep away from you. If you so desired, I would fulfill it. But this…is preferable.”

You could almost imagine him smiling, a most peculiar mental image considering his lack of features, yet all the same you couldn’t shake it. His fingers were cool as they wrapped around yours, but not nearly as icy as you’d expected, and his skin was the same fabric-like texture of your cotton bedsheets. How peculiar. He helped you to your feet and took your grocery bag in his other hand before you’d even noticed it was still resting upon the bench. The gesture was almost chivalrous.

“Come, then. It is time I introduced you to the mansion I inhabit along with my team of proxies.”

You only had time to shoot him a stunned look before you were both wrapped up in a metaphysical cloak of time and space, your vision a swirling mass of indistinguishable colors, shapes, and contours before you felt the ground disappear from beneath your feet.

Oh…shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't obvious, you guys aren't magically about to start dating now that Slender's revealed that you're connected to him. In my dumb AU not-soulmate concept, the bond is not inherently romantic since they can be bonded to anyone of any age or gender; it simply _is_. Any romantic aspect would still have develop over time, though their intrinsic draw toward you certainly helps move things along. Feel free to throw questions at me if I'm not making any sense!


	10. The Ties That Bind Us (Jeff the Killer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I have way, WAY too much fun writing Jeff's parts and driving him ballistic?

You supposed you should have been more surprised, but honestly, by this point you’d almost come to expect it.

You only gave a slight start when a sudden sharp rapping made your sliding glass door shake, tearing your attention away from the TV and simple dinner of spaghetti and meatballs.

A familiar, haunting face pressed up against the glass, unblinking azure eyes glaring into the room with his carved smile eerily at odds with the rest of his expression. Was he serious? By now this felt like a particularly bad joke that had carried on for far too long. You sighed and hit the pause button on Netflix, pushing yourself up to your feet before stomping over to the window. You yanked open the door only a crack, just enough for you to hear each other speak.

“ _You_ again?! What the hell do you want? Why do you keep coming back, psycho? I’m not above spraying bear mace right into your eyes if you push your luck!”

“Will you just shut the fuck up for five seconds?!” Jeff growled, his eyes flashing, “Let me in! There’s something we need to talk about.”

You let out a loud, derisive laugh, shooting him an incredulous look which he met with a withering one of his own.

“You’re joking, right? The last time you were here, I woke up to you preparing to jab a knife into my neck!”

“Do you see a knife now, bitch? No? Then shut the hell up and let me in!” He was snarling, although frustration was also rolling off him in waves. Now that was odd.

“No way! I’d be the world’s biggest idiot to let you back into my apartment a third time. Well, I guess the second time doesn’t count because you  _broke in._ By the way, I’ve got a new security system, so it’s not going to end well if you try to pull that shit again, asshole.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Jeff grimaced before yanking the door open the rest of the way, causing you to fall backward a few paces. He stalked inside before slamming it shut behind him. “ _Listen_ , will you, you aggravating broad?”

“Oh yes, please just make yourself at home!” you retorted, doing your best to maintain an outward façade of complete calm while mentally mapping out your best plan of escape if things were about to turn south. Which they probably were. “Want some spaghetti while you’re at it?”

“Actually, yeah.” You weren’t expecting him to plop down on the couch as if your offer hadn’t been dripping with heavy sarcasm, and to your disbelief, he picked the plate of spaghetti right up and began wolfing it down.

“Hey—!” you began to exclaim, but he ignored you. As he continued to shovel food into his mouth, he seemed to grow marginally more relaxed. Low blood sugar? You refused to let him out of your sight, though, so you took a few steps closer to the back of the couch and kept your posture tense.

“The hell are you watching?” he asked a few seconds later through a mouthful of pasta, jerking his head toward the paused TV screen. He was speaking as if he hadn’t just forced his way into your apartment and threatened to bodily injure you on multiple occasions. You couldn’t tell if he was serious at first, but when he shot you another pointed glare, you decided to just play along in interest of self-preservation.

“Daredevil. Season 2,” you responded cautiously.

“That’s weak.” He snorted, chewing and swallowing a large meatball that you’d been looking forward to enjoying. “You should check out the Punisher instead.”

Were you really holding this conversation? You gaped at him in disbelief while folding your arms over your chest.

“Something tells me you didn’t come here tonight to eat my dinner and criticize my taste in TV shows.” Your tone was very dry, and he made a face.

“Yeah, yeah. Sit down already,” he grumbled, pointing to the polar opposite side of the couch. You looked back and forth between his extended index finger and said seat, wondering if this was such a good idea. He growled at you in annoyance. “Just _sit_! I’m not going to fucking attack you, okay?!”

“Hol-ee shit,” you mumbled, skirting around the side of the couch to drop into the seat, “Fine,  _fine_! You’ve got serious anger issues, dude.”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes before returning to your spaghetti, and within just a couple of minutes he’d polished off the entire plate. You’re welcome, asshole. “Anyway, we’ve gotta talk. Much as I fuckin’ hate to admit it.”

“Is this about how I saved your life, then you tried to kill me in retaliation, and now you’ve stolen my dinner? I’m starting to see a weird pattern here.”

“Do you ever shut your mouth? What the fuck!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” It was no good, both of your tempers were flaring up again.

“Forget it! This isn’t getting us anywhere!” Jeff was exasperated, and dragged a hand down his face while shoving the plate away. “You and me, we’re talking. NOW. First of all, what the hell’s your name?”

“( _Name_ ),” you said sweetly, “So you know what to carve on my tombstone after you’ve finished murdering me.” You reached for your glass of water and took a swig before he could make a swipe for it. He scowled and swiveled his head toward you.

“You’re infuriating, you know that? I’m already told you I’m not going to do anything to you!”

“Can you blame me, Jeffy-boy? After our last meeting?”

“Call me that again, and I’ll carve your fucking tongue out!” he snapped, the threat seeming to come to him as naturally as breathing. Then he grew even more frustrated and slammed his hands down on the table when he realized what he’d just said. “Dammit!  _No_ , I don’t mean that. I-I said I’m not going to hurt you! Can you just  _stop_ saying shit to provoke me every two seconds?!”

He seemed disgusted with himself even as the words left his mouth. You had the (very) distinct impression that this was the first time he’d ever attempted to convince someone that he wasn’t going to harm them. So far, he was batting zero.

“Sure, if you explain why you keep showing up at my apartment like this.” You raised an expectant eyebrow at him, and he sucked in a ragged breath.

“Okay. Screw this. Listen, I’ve gone to hell and back over this and believe me, if I had it my way, things would be different. But everything’s all fucked up, and truth is, I can’t kill you. _God_  I want to, but I just. Fucking. Can’t. I tried, and it was the first time I’ve ever failed to take down my target. This is all your fault! If you’d just left me alone, this never would’ve happened, and I’d…!”

His pallid hands curled into clenched fists atop the table, and he had packed them so tightly that any semblance of circulation was absent. Finally he glanced up at you again, this time without the usual enmity contorting his expression. Instead he looked…lost. You were taken aback.

“Why the hell did you do it?” he croaked. “You turned my whole world upside down. I didn’t ask for this. Now I’m screwed, because there’s no going back. He was right. Every last thing he said was right. I denied it for a whole month, but we’ve all noticed. I’m better than before. Even faster, stronger, better at tracking down victims. But I had a knife to your throat and I still couldn’t do it. It really is you, and I’m fucked. So are you.”

“Jeff, what on earth are you talking about?” You pressed yourself into the couch’s armrest, edging yourself as far away from him as possible. You already knew that he was a killer, but his words were throwing you for a confused loop. What was going on?

“It’s the fucking  _bond_ , you idiot!” he exploded, and the fork rattled upon the plate with the force he used to slap his palms down upon the table a second time. “I can’t believe this is happening.  _Me_ , out of all the proxies? Instead of that sissy elf or goody-two shoes Hoodie?” He rocked back and forth a little, bowing his head and appearing completely disturbed by this turn of events.  

“You’re going to have to get everyone else on the same page as you. Not a creepy, deranged killer over here, remember? I have no idea what you’re talking about, even if it’s obvious to you,” you pointed out, even as your heart raced behind your ribs.

Jeff leaped to his feet and began pacing back and forth in front of the TV, wringing his hands in front of him. He had a wild, infuriated look about him.

“The bond!” he growled, “It’s what happens when a proxy—that’s what I am, if you couldn’t piece it together already—meets the  _one_ person they can’t kill. It’s the complete opposite. We’re not really human anymore, but whatever hell’s left from those days, it’s determined to make life miserable for us. You’re a  _weakness_ , one I never had before. I’ve already gutted two bastards who tried following you back here. Boss got real pissed over that one since it made the news.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re not human?” Your eyes were bulging. “And did you just say that you  _killed two people_ who were following me home?!”

“Keep up!” he barked, “Yes! The bond doesn’t just mean that I won’t be able to hurt you. It means that anybody else who even thinks about it is asking to get their throat cut. Turns out meeting you gave me a real boost to my skills, and that’s saying something. If anything happens to you, I’m screwed on multiple levels. I can’t off you myself, but I can’t let anyone else do it, either.”

He groaned while burying his head into his hands, stifling the sound of a frustrated shout.

“And your boss?” You hardly dared to ask, but you had to know.

“Slenderman.” Jeff’s tone was dismissive. “Big pale guy in a suit. Can’t miss him. He gives us our orders for most of our kills. But you…you were unexpected. For any of us. I only came here a month ago because my target lived a few floors above you, and the jackass got lucky and managed to push me out a window.”

“And that’s when I found you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with disbelief. This massively creepy guy killed for a  _living_. He was an actual murderer, and yet he claimed that you were somehow connected to him? This day just kept getting better and better.

“No getting around it, you’re gonna have to come back to the mansion with me.” Jeff plunked back down on the couch, suddenly sounding a lot more exhausted than he had only seconds before. “Gotta make it clear to everyone that no one’s allowed to fuck with you. Shit, I barely know you and you’re already dragging me down.” He shook his head at you scornfully, as if you should feel ashamed that you’d dared to cause him this misfortune worse than death by simply existing.

“Well, why don’t we just go our separate ways then?” you suggested, not rising to the bait and wisely keeping your temper in check, “Okay, so you can’t kill me, and apparently that’s an issue for you. We never have to see each other again, though. You know that, right? You can keep your ‘skill boost’ and I get to keep my sanity. Boom! Problem solved and everyone’s happy.”

“You think I didn’t think of that already?!” he snapped, twisting his head toward you to shoot you another glower, “It’s not that simple! I...” For the very first time he faltered, as a hint of humiliation seemed to flicker in his face. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this. Fuck. But I can’t stay away from you. I just  _can’t_ , for the same reason that I can’t kill you.”

You were thunderstruck. Wait a minute. This was even more serious than you’d realized. Was he saying that he was never going to leave you alone? That you basically had an unwanted “bodyguard” and psychotic serial killer who was fixated upon you in your life…for  _good_?

“Jeff, I think you should leave.”

“I’m not fucking lying, dammit!” he shouted, jumping to his feet again, “I’ll bring you to the mansion and  _show_ you! Goddamn pieces of shit back home won’t shut up about it, anyway.” The last part was more of a disgruntled mutter, which you pretended not to hear.

“If I come with you to this stupid mansion, will you stop dropping an f-bomb between every other word you say?” you heard yourself asking. “I’m obviously no saint myself, but there’s got to be a more creative way to express your wrath at the world.”

He looked severely tempted to say, “Fuck you!” But he managed to rein it in with impressive effort, even as his face turned red with rage.

“ _Fine_ ,” he ground out, “You have a deal. Now let’s go!”

Whoops. You hadn’t actually expected him to agree. Now you’d landed yourself in a whole new situation, and you had a nasty feeling that your entire life as you knew it would never be the same again. Holy hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to need a bit more time before I update this again, mainly just because I've been neglecting my other fics. That being said, I will do my best! I appreciate you. :)


	11. The Ties That Bind Us (Eyeless Jack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader gets spiteful toward EJ, and doesn't even know why she feels badly about it. EJ's normally infallible patience gets tested. No one ever said this was going to be easy.

You had made it a point to avoid EJ to the best of your ability ever since your second meeting when he’d run away. Sure, he emphasized that he didn’t mean you any harm, but that still didn’t make him any less creepy. The guy had been stalking you and you witnessed him  _murder_ someone, after all.

You spotted him in your peripherals from time to time, but quickly learned that if you didn’t acknowledge him in any way, it caused him actual discomfort. You couldn’t determine just how you knew that, yet the realization had crept in all the same, and you took advantage of it. While it didn’t exactly make sense, a grim, sadistic part of you still wanted to return the favor after all the problems he’d already caused, so you went out of your way to ignore him.

Technically, yes, you did see him lurking there (almost hopefully) in the alleyway beside the laundromat. But nope, you weren’t going to give the slightest indication that you recognized his presence. What about the time you were picking up some snacks at Trader Joe’s, only to catch a glimpse of someone with a dark hood drawn over his head watching you from the end of the aisle? You looked right past him as if he wasn’t even there. Once he even showed up in your apartment building’s lobby, standing next to the row of mailboxes. How odd, you must have been seeing things.

Sure, it might sound petty, but if you never spoke to him again, maybe he’d give up and leave you the hell alone. You didn’t owe him anything, after all. Right?

That was why you firmly squashed down the little nagging sensation of guilt every time you ignored him. It made no logical sense for you to feel guilty. He even seemed a little wistful, which made no sense either and only further underlined the fact that you needed to be rid of him, yet you weren’t a complete heartless arse, either. A part of you just didn’t know what to do.

Well, he ended up making the decision for you one night, almost a month later, by waiting in the back seat of your car in the darkness.

You were jumping into your Civic to make a quick run to the store for some provisions, and had barely turned the key in the ignition before his deep, raspy voice took about ten years off your life.

“We need to talk.”

“JESUS TAP-DANCING CHRIST!” You screamed, and it was only through sheer luck that you hadn’t shifted the gear out of park yet. You whirled around and sure enough, a very familiar masked form was sitting in the back seat. He looked calm, but clearly was not going to entertain your desire to flub him any longer. This was an effective way to get your attention, to put it lightly. “Jack, how the hell did you get in here? What are you doing?!”

“You’ve been avoiding me, and we really need to talk.” He stressed the last statement in such a way that it was clear he wasn’t going to tolerate any argument. “I’m sorry that it took sneaking into the back of your car like this, but things can’t continue this way.”

“You’re absolutely right. You need to stop following me everywhere I go!” you snapped, “Even if you really don’t want to hurt me, the fact that you won’t leave me alone is nerve-wracking!”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” He remained calm even as your voice grew high-pitched, staving off the growing hysteria. “There’s a reason I find it very difficult to leave you alone. I didn’t want to have to corner you like this, but you left me with no choice.”

“Well, apparently I’m your captive audience now, so bombs away,” you retorted. He sighed.

“I know how crazy this will sound. But I promise I’m telling you the truth.” As he stared at you through his unsettling blue mask, you narrowed your eyes.

“Well, if you’re going to promise not to hide anything from me, I think there’s something else we need to address here. I swear I’ll hear you out, and I’ll even give serious consideration to whatever you say. But in exchange, you have to show me your face beneath that mask.” He immediately tensed up. “ _Jack,_ c’mon. How am I supposed to trust you if you keep hiding from me?”

“It’s not that,” he muttered, averting his head from you, “I just don’t want you to scream and run away from me again.”

“I won’t.” You spoke with far more courage than you felt, but if you were going to make a deal, then you had to stand strong. You held out your hand to him, craning somewhat uncomfortably in your seat. “If you show me, I won’t run away,  _and_  I will listen to whatever it is you wanted to say. I mean it.”

“…Fine. I have to warn you, though. It’s jarring.” He shook your hand and hesitated for a long moment. Then he slowly lifted his hands to his mask and pulled it away to reveal the face underneath.

His skin was the same dull shade of gray that you remembered. His ash-brown hair was unruly and cut short, but fell over his eyes and framed the sides of his face in a way that suited him. His brows were full and angular, as was his jawline, and his nose was perfectly straight. If it weren’t for the rows of sharp, pointed teeth that peeked from behind his lips, you might have said he had an attractive mouth. But most horrifying were his eyes—or rather, lack thereof. They were endless dark voids in his face, seemingly empty eye sockets from which a mysterious dark liquid seemed to ooze.

You froze as you stared at each other for a solid minute, but true to your word, you didn’t scream. In fact, you didn’t make any sound at all. You were too shocked to say a word. While you’d always known that something was wrong with him (hello, he was a confirmed murderer and cannibal), now you were questioning whether he was even human.

What in actual fuck was going on?

“Yeah, I know. Hang on,” he mumbled, reaching for his mask to secure it back over his face. You came to your senses and shot out to grab his wrist while shaking your head. He stared at you in confusion. “Wha—?”

“Don’t hide your face. Yes, it’s a lot to take in, but you trusted me. You don’t have to keep hiding behind that mask. Now it’s my turn to trust you and listen.”

Once again, you sounded a lot more confident than you actually felt. But if you weren’t mistaken, the guy had a lot more insecurity than you first imagined. Besides, the more comfortable you made him feel, perhaps the more likely he would be to explain what had given him such a nightmarish appearance.

He continued to stare at you, but at last lowered his arm and placed the mask upon the seat. “All right. Well, I think what I have to say will also be a lot to take in. Fair warning.”

“It’s going to be tough to surprise me with something worse than what I already know about you.” You arched an eyebrow at him, and he huffed.

“Fine. Well, as I’m sure you’re already well-aware, I’m not normal.” He gestured to himself, the empty vacuums of his eyes seeming to burn into you, “Not even close. I’m also very experienced in several disciplines, ranging from medicine and surgery to stealth and…ending lives.”

“I noticed.” You suppressed an involuntary shiver. “Although I don’t know how stealthy you really are, seeing as how I’ve caught you following me how many times now?”

“( _Name_ ).” He sounded exasperated. “You only noticed me because I  _wanted_  you to notice. I was hoping you would catch sight of me. Ask yourself, has anyone else ever done the same?”

Now that he mentioned it, you realized he was right. Every single time you’d spotted him, harshly out of place in each of his surroundings, the other passerby’s eyes simply seemed to slide past him as if he weren’t even there. Sort of like what you’d been doing to him (you fought off another irrational pang of shame). So he could control who could see him and when? Talk about unsettling!

“Anyway, there’s a reason why I do what I do.” It was difficult not to stare at his seeping eyes or sharp teeth. “I don’t just kill for the hell of it. I’m under orders. I work for a paranormal entity named Slenderman. He’s the one who determines who we target and why. The man you ran into the night we met? His name was Douglas Jones. I was already pursuing him by the time he locked onto you. He was a dangerous drug addict, but he only further sealed his fate when he decided to threaten you.”

A distinctly protective growl entered his voice here, and you were thunderstruck. Fantastic. A kidney-eating serial killer who murdered for a living was obsessed with you and trying to justify it by claiming that his victims deserved it.

“Jack, how did you even get _into_  a business like that?” you croaked, “I mean, you didn’t just wake up one day and decide, ‘Welp, the ideal career path for me is contract killer!’ Especially when you find yourself under the employ of something supernatural!”

“That’s a really long story, and not one I want to get into today, if you don’t mind.” He sounded fatigued at the mere thought of it. “You’re right, though. It’s not something I ever considered once upon a time. I used to be in med school, and I—” He broke off, a little abashed that he’d revealed this. “Never mind, not now. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“Then tell me. Tell me what’s going on here. I still have no idea why I’m one of the only people who’s come into contact with you who isn’t taking a dirt nap.” You kept your gaze level with his, even as a low, pulsing apprehension coursed through your veins.

“You…are special,” he murmured, reaching out as if to catch a lock of your hair between his fingers. When you flinched, he did the same, and then dropped his hand just short of your face after seeming to think better of it. “I am something called a proxy. Because proxies are no longer fully human, we possess a great variety of abilities that normal humans don’t. But we do retain some vestiges of our humanity despite it. I suppose that, combined with working under Slenderman, is what makes this situation possible. Our situation.”

There it was, he’d said it again. You slanted toward him a little, almost without even realizing it. But you were intensely curious now as to what he was about to reveal. You couldn’t help it. His mouth twitched a little before continuing.

“When I first glimpsed you and caught your scent in the air, I realized at once what I was dealing with. I was overcome with not only the revelation that you do exist, but also an instinctual craving for bloodshed. Not yours, of course…” The very idea seemed to make him shudder. “But the one who was threatening your safety at that very moment. He was slated for death regardless, but his biggest miscalculation was taking even a step in your direction.”

“What do you mean, that I ‘do exist’?” You still didn’t understand. His gaze was even and steady, though much of his face was still cast in a penumbra of shadow from the distant street lights outside the car.

“The one I’m bonded to,” he answered, “We share an inherent connection that is far more formidable than either of us. While there is no guarantee, each of Slenderman’s proxies carries the capacity to bond to one person. It can be absolutely anyone, but no matter who it is…to us, that person becomes one of our new reasons for living. Reminds us of what it was like to be human, even. It grants us incredible boosts to our existing abilities. But it also awakens a primal defensive reaction within us. As I told you, I’d never be able to bring myself to hurt you. I also won’t permit anyone else to even try.”

“Wait…wait a minute.” You were struggling to process this, and gripped the edge of your seat until your knuckles turned pallid. “You’re saying that we share some sort of…bond or connection? But how can you be sure? How do you know it’s me and not someone else?”

“I told you,” he said quietly, “I knew who you were as soon as I first saw you. I guess it’s not something that can be easily explained unless you’ve experienced it for yourself. Rest assured, though, I’m completely sure. Until I laid eyes on you, I’d never felt such a sheer protective instinct. I’ll be honest with you when I say that I have no idea  _why_  we’re bonded. All I know is that we are, and there’s no turning back from this.”

“What do you mean by that?” Your heart skipped a few beats in your chest. “EJ, what happens from here on out?”

“Relax. You can still go about things like normal,” he pointed out, and you exhaled a little. “I’m not here to stop you from leading your day-to-day life. However, just know that if you’re ever in danger, I will be the one to ‘take care’ of it. This is non-negotiable. I refuse to ever let something happen to my bonded one.  _Ever_.”

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous hiss that made goosebumps erupt up and down your arms. Now more than ever you weren’t sure if you were fortunate that he’d spared you and seemed determined to keep you safe, or if ultimately you would have been much better off if he’d just taken you out the first night you met. Which scenario was worse? Right about now, it was difficult to tell.

“I’m not going to lie, though.” He had returned to his normal stoic cadence after a few moments passed. “I don’t want to just keep my distance from you. I want to see you. To…get to know you.” He hesitated. “I’ve never done this before. All I really know is that it causes me pain and discomfort on an actual physical level when we go too long without any sort of interaction. I don’t know if that’s an unfortunate side effect of the bond, and if it is, I suspect it’s limited only to me. I would suffer through it for you. But…if you’re willing…”

To be honest, you didn’t have an answer for him, not right then. This was so much to take in all at once, and his firm gaze never budged from you. You didn’t know yet if you wanted to never see him again; of course, even if you took that path, he would probably never be far behind. He would always be waiting and watching in the shadows, silently agonizing and taking down anyone who looked at you funny.

It was sickening, the more you thought about it. Was the bond more like a curse than anything else? Was it true that he must be near you to curb the symptoms? Had your ignoring him caused him actual anguish?

“I don’t know yet what I want to do, or where to go with this,” you finally answered. His expression didn’t change. “It’s a hell of a lot to dump on me all at once, and we’re talking about some pretty serious stuff here.”

“So you believe me, then?” He raised his head a little.

“Yes. How could I not, after everything I’ve seen?” You shrugged. “I guess…I just need a little more time to figure this out. I’m not running away or shutting you out, EJ. At least not right now. I don’t really know what to do. I’m just being candid.”

“I understand.” His tongue darted out past his teeth to run along his lower lip, a brief but thoughtful motion as he considered your stance. “Well, perhaps I can bring you to Slenderman’s mansion. If you’re going to be in my life, that would be inevitable sooner or later, and I believe it would help you make your final decision. You must be exposed to Slenderman himself and my fellow proxies to be fully integrated into my life.”

“Oh.” Now your voice was more of a squeak again from fear.

“Relax. If any of them tries to touch you, even my boss, they will be dead before they hit the floor.” Jack’s voice was so composed that you might have thought he’d been discussing what he would have for dinner that night. But all the same something in the air of the car seemed to change, even if only for a moment, and you sensed something of that same brutally violent aura you’d noticed the night you first met. Your goosebumps worsened. “But I feel confident it won’t come to that. Bonded ones are afforded a special protection that even the most bloodthirsty proxies will respect.”

“I see.” You lapsed into a heavy silence for a very long minute, staring at each other so intently that you began to wonder if he could read your mind. Finally, you sucked in a deep breath.

“Well? Are we going? There’s no time like the present. Let’s get this over with.”

“Now?” Jack was visibly taken aback by the suggestion, but he collected himself as the idea settled in. “Yes. You’re right. There’s no use in putting it off any further. We can drive there and I’ll guide you.”

“Thanks.” You straightened out in the driver’s seat and buckled in, though you paused before doing anything else. “…You know, I’m not real keen on back seat drivers. You can sit up front with me.”

For a moment you thought he might have actually smiled, small but shark-like. Perhaps it had only been a trick of the light, though.

“Yeah. I’ll do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I reiterate that I really love EJ? These 4 are my favorite CPs. :O I'm nearly done with Masky's next chapter, just give me one more evening to wrap that one up, and then we'll be all caught up. Thanks guys!! <3


	12. The Ties That Bind Us (Masky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this, I've finally managed to post all the "missing" chapters up until this point in the overall story. FOR BETTER OR WORSE, HERE WE GO. Thanks for all your patience with me! Much love to you all <3

How the hell did you always manage to land yourself in these situations?

You shot a nervous glance over your shoulder, only to make accidental eye contact with him. Shit. You hastily turned back around, picking up the pace as your breath clouded in front of you in the brisk night air. You’d had a nasty feeling about him from the second you laid eyes on him in the bar, but this only further confirmed your suspicion.

Apprehension roiled in your gut. This wasn’t good. Thanks to the late hour, the streets were practically empty aside from the two of you, and your apartment building was still a good ten minutes away. You were unarmed and unprepared for a confrontation. You didn’t want to lead this guy straight to where you lived, either, but the nearest police department was even farther away.

Speaking of, should you be dialing 911 right now? But then again, the guy  _technically_ hadn’t done anything so far except  ~~follow~~  walk down the same street as you. Behind you. For several blocks. You’d probably get told there was nothing they could do unless he’d committed an actual crime or threatened you.

Your growing fear quickly overpowered the resulting frustration. His footsteps sounded closer now, even though you didn’t dare to steal another peek to see just how close. You were full-on power walking, which was usually enough to stop you from being targeted by the average drunk in the streets, but this guy wasn’t showing any sign of letting up.

So what should you do? You were alone and the police weren’t going to be of any use. Then, just before you started to panic, the answer clicked in your brain.

_“If you ever feel like you’re in danger or afraid, don’t hesitate to call me.”_

A month had passed since you first exchanged numbers with Tim Wright, and in that time you had grown close enough for you to consider him your friend. Well, more or less. While there was still an undeniable cloud of mystery that surrounded him, he was sincere in his desire to befriend you and had done nothing to justify the faint sense of unease.

It turned out that you got along quite well, and you’d held numerous conversations both over text and in person, running the gamut from something as innocuous as movie or music preferences to deeper, more philosophical dialogues. More often than not, you caught him staring at you thoughtfully whenever you did so, but each time he averted his eyes and changed the subject before you could call him out on it.

And almost a month ago to the day, he’d made you swear that you would reach out if you ever needed him.

So what did you have to lose? You fumbled for your phone inside your bag and searched for his name in your contacts list. You resisted the urge to break into an anxious jog as you listened to it ring. He picked up after a few moments, much to your immense relief.

“Tim!” you whispered, not wanting the man behind you to overhear what you were doing, “Can I…can I ask where you are right now?”

“( _Name_ ), what’s wrong? You okay?” His voice sounded muffled, and there was a distorted sound in the background that drowned him out for a second. He let out an exasperated growl, presumably at someone who was with him. “Sorry about that, now’s not exactly the best time—”

“You said to call you if I’m danger. I think I’m in trouble,” you breathed. “I’m really sorry about the lousy timing of this. I just—”

“What?!” The tone of his voice transformed. Suddenly he sounded a hundred times more severe, with an edge that was almost dangerous. “What do you mean? Where are you?”

“Not far from Rosedale Park? I’m, uh, not alone. Haven’t been for several blocks. I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t think this was serious. I don’t have any weapons and…I’m scared, Tim.” Your voice cracked a little.

You heard him swear before shouting something indiscernible to someone in the background. You couldn’t make out the garbled response, but had no time to question it before he returned to his phone again in a rush.

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Maybe sooner. ( _Name_ ), listen to me. Play it safe and don’t do anything stupid!”

He’d already hung up before you even had a chance to respond, and you stared dumbly down at your cell before recalling the situation at hand. You didn’t know if the man behind you had overheard your conversation or not, but it must be clear that you’d just called for help either way.

His heavy footsteps were deafening in your ears as he continued to pursue you, faster now than before, each footfall crashing down upon the pavement. Your breathing grew erratic, and it took a concerted effort to stop yourself from hyperventilating. Stay calm. Keep it together!

This felt interminable. Just as you were about to pass the park, its gate and parking lot dark and silent, you heard the man break into a run behind you. You screamed when his arm zoomed out to seize the back of your hood, wrenching you toward him in a ruthless motion. _Hell. No._

You resisted him with every ounce of strength you possessed. You drove your elbow into his ribs and stomped on his feet while he struggled to keep you in check. Teeth gnashed, limbs flailed, and you made him stumble more than once when you aimed for his kneecaps. You even attempted to break his nose by slamming the back of your head into his face, but to no avail. He snarled as blood streamed from his nostrils and merely redoubled his efforts, dashing all of your hopes that if you fought back enough, he’d decide you weren’t worth the trouble.

Despair began to flood through you. It was soon joined by crippling horror when he dragged you toward the nearby gate and into the vacant park grounds. Vast surrounding woods lay beyond them, beckoning in the darkness and making his intent more than a little obvious. Your terrified screams echoed in vain considering no one was around to hear them. The man grunted while tightening his hold around you, even as you continued to wrestle with him in a desperate refusal to give in.

Then you were tackled by an indistinguishable flying blur, and at once all three of you went tumbling to the asphalt.

You were briefly dazed when your head struck the ground, and moaned a little while trying to regain your bearings. The man had loosened his grip enough for you to roll away, though you were too rattled for any relief to register. Once the brief wave of dizziness faded, your focus returned and you noticed the vicious scuffle taking place only a few feet away.

You couldn’t help but recoil as your horror intensified. Your attacker was locked in a brawl with a mysterious figure wearing a fitted taupe jacket, charcoal pants tucked into steel-toed boots, dark brown gloves, and most alarmingly of all, a mask concealing their face. But it wasn’t just any mask; it was pure white with large black voids painted on for eyes, high arched brows, and a set of full, black lips. It was absurdly unsettling, and your assailant seemed to think the same thing, because now he was yelling as he fought against the stranger.

“Who the fuck are you?! The hell’s up with you, man?!”

No response came from the masked figure. Instead they delivered a powerful blow to the man’s celiac plexus that left him gasping for breath, and took advantage of the momentary weakness to flip him over and yank both of his arms behind his back. The newcomer kept him pinned there with minimal effort, and you had to wonder just how strong this new guy was, considering how easily they’d been able to subdue the powerful man who had been stalking you in less than a minute.

Then you felt all the blood drain from your face when they pulled out a small gun and dug the barrel into the back of the man’s skull. They leaned forward to whisper something in the drunkard’s ear, and soon he was whimpering while shaking his head. Perhaps it had been a series of threats, because much to your relief the newcomer rose to their feet a few moments later and stashed their gun back at their waist without discharging it.

Your assailant didn’t bother stealing a second glance at either of you before he staggered to his own feet and began sprinting away. He’d even soiled himself in fear, if the foul smell that lingered in the air behind him was any indication. You had to wrinkle your nose.

But then you recalled that you were now left alone with an entirely new problem. Sure, the initial threat was now fleeing with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs, but he’d been replaced with someone far more intimidating whom you’d be even less capable of fighting off. Someone who had now turned to you and was gazing at you intently. You had to take a step back.

“I…uh, thank you for scaring him off.” You sounded oddly high-pitched, nothing like your regular voice. “Um…I’ll be out of your hair now.”

“Wait!” The voice was stifled behind the mask, but strangely familiar. You froze. Wait a minute. “Hang on a second! ( _Name_ ), it’s me.” You watched in astonishment as the figure lifted the mask away, only to reveal a stubble-laden face that you knew only too well.

“ _Tim_?” You were flabbergasted. What the hell was going on?

“Dammit,” he cursed, allowing the mask to fall to the ground as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just knew you were in danger, and…well, instinct took over. Probably should have remembered to take off the mask first, though.”

“Why on earth were you even wearing that thing to begin with?” You were incredulous. “Not to mention, where did you learn to fight like that? I had no idea you were so strong! Plus I just watched you pull a  _gun_ on someone, Tim!”

“This wasn’t exactly how I envisioned us having this conversation.” He heaved a sigh before proffering his hand to you. “C’mon, let’s go sit down over there. You must be shaken up after everything that’s happened. But there’s something else I should really tell you tonight. Not much point in hiding it now.”

“Okay…” You felt numb as you followed him over to a long wooden bench near the entrance of the park, and you settled in beside each other. His mask now rested in his lap and his expression was unreadable as he tried to search for the right words to say. Finally, he turned to you with an almost defeated look.

“Listen. There’s no easy way to tell you this, and you probably won’t even believe me. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to run in the opposite direction afterward, either. I should have told you the day I met you, but I just wanted a chance to get to know you first. Y’know, as a normal guy.”

You were speechless. You had no idea what he was about to tell you. Was he actually a hardened criminal or a felon on the run? After what you just witnessed, it was a possibility.

“I’m…something called a proxy,” he began carefully, gauging your reaction as he spoke. You stared at him as blankly as if he'd just begun speaking in tongues. “I’m still human, but in some ways I’m not. I work under a supernatural entity called Slenderman. All of us have much stronger abilities than the average human in terms of speed, strength, and stealth. Among my colleagues, I’ve been nicknamed Masky.”

Whatever you’d been expecting him to say, it definitely wasn’t that. Was he for real? This had to be some sort of bizarre joke. There was no way he expected you to buy any of this. He blew out another sigh at your skeptical response. He went on to explain more about the work that they did, to include the fact that yes, Slenderman designated each of them marks whom they were commanded to _kill_. But according to Tim, he preferred scouting and stealth, and as a result he had the lowest number of kills among the proxies. Oh, great. Was that supposed to make you feel better?

“I keep my skills honed just in case they’re ever needed, for a situation like tonight’s.” He never tore his gaze from yours, as if silently pleading with you not to run away. “But I don’t seek out violence. This life wasn’t even something I chose for myself. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. You see…there’s something else. When you change and become a proxy, yet still retain some of your humanity, it amplifies almost everything about us. Meaning that while we rarely form attachments, once we do, it’s life-changing.”

You tilted your head at him while trying to absorb this inconceivable torrent of information, still not entirely certain that you believed him. But then again, the way he’d fought…that had been almost superhuman. You were starting to recognize that everything added up, as much as it horrified you to admit it.

“There’s something called the bond,” Tim said hesitantly, “This is why I would never hurt you in a million years. It’s why I would do anything to keep you safe, and why the entire team is prohibited from targeting you. I know you probably can’t feel it from your end. But from mine, as a proxy, I knew it from the second we first met. You’re my bonded one.”

“Your bonded one.” That was a whole other layer of revelations to process, and you stared at him again. He nodded, looking somewhat flustered.

“Wait, it’s not as forward as it sounds!” he hastily added, “I mean, it’s not necessarily… _romantic_ or anything.” His complexion reddened. “It’s just in general, and can happen to any of us. It might or it might not, but if it does, it can be anybody. It could be an old man, or a little girl, or someone our own age of any gender. No matter who it is, that ends up becoming the one person we’d do anything to protect. Ironic, I know, given what we do for a living.”

“But…” You were still struggling to piece all of this together. “So you’re a killer, working beneath some paranormal monster as part of a team of the most dangerous murderers in the world? And you’re saying that I’m your one exception to the rule, and we’re bonded to each other?”

“Yeah. Sums it up.” He bobbed his head, even as his expression betrayed his anxiety that you would walk away. “If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. I can bring you to the mansion. None of them can lay a finger on you. I’d personally make sure of it.” The last part was more of a territorial growl, and your heart was pulsing in your chest.

“Tim…you know this sounds crazy, right?”

“I know.” He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his fingers around yours, giving them a gentle squeeze. “But I’m telling you the truth. I won't stop you if you decide to get out of Dodge, but will you come to the mansion first? Give me just one chance to prove it.”

“…Okay.” Your consent came out in more of a whisper than you intended. Perhaps it was because he’d just saved your life, or the fact that there wasn’t the slightest trace of deceit in his eyes, or even just that you'd considered him your friend prior to today, but you were going to be an absolute moron and trust him. Whether he would actually take you to a mansion filled with preternatural killers, however, remained to be seen.

What were you about to get yourself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Confession, I've realized that there are some glaring issues with this story and now I'm a bit paralyzed in terms of how to proceed, even though I've had some chapters planned before this. I'm really sorry, guys - I think I'm going to have to come back to this one. I _want_ to continue it so badly, but my confidence in this fic has taken a brutal wallop and I'm concerned about posting actual garbage that will just ruin it all. I'm not abandoning it, but I'm going to have to figure out what the heck to do first. A common author's dilemma. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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